


Begins with Blood, Ends with Family

by professorandre1228



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A/B/O, AU, Alpha Dean, BAMF Dean Winchester, Beta everyone else, Evil Crowley, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Insane Lucifer, Omega Sam, Organized Crime, implied happy ending, indentured slaves, very evil John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:55:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22624414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professorandre1228/pseuds/professorandre1228
Summary: Four way battle between the FBI (Dean's an agent now), John Winchester (Military survivalist leader with a dark agenda), Lucifer's "Fallen Angels" drug cartel, and Crowley's "Legion" mob gang.  And caught in the middle? Sam Winchester.  Brother to Dean, son of John, secretly watched by Lucifer, and kidnapped by Crowley.  Who will make it out?
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Kudos: 22





	1. Ruby Does a Good Thing, Unkowningly

‘Oh, this is too easy,’ Ruby smirked to herself.

Her mission from Crowley had only been to scout and report back on the security and personnel at the Winchester stronghold, but the high and mighty John Winchester had unwittingly made this officially much more than that. The dark-haired spy had spent the better part of the last few days and nights patiently watching and noting the comings and goings. She had timed all the patrols, identified all the residents, and even had figured out the security system and how to disarm it. The only real blockades that she saw to Crowley’s future plans were John’s oldest son, Dean, who had left to join the FBI, but no one could be certain he wasn’t just doing that as a cover so he could be an inside man, and that damned bodyguard/mechanic, Bobby Singer, who was the only other person who could out and out argue with John when they didn’t agree, but was still loyal and protective of the Winchester family. 

John had only been spotted once late into the night, standing proud and naked at the upper story bedroom window with whatever whore of the night huddled under the sheets behind him, and this morning, fully dressed in his standard military survivalist garb as he came to sit at the breakfast table with a few of John’s most trusted leaders under him, who were apparently attending a breakfast meeting. It was rumored that the son, Dean, was still at Quantico, and the bodyguard, Singer, had taken a personal trip to the Dakotas for a week. Thus the extra security roaming the grounds

The one surprise of the trip, the one that had her smiling so darkly, was the appearance of John’s youngest son, walking out of the back door to the only portion of the fenced and hidden backyard with dead, withered grass. He had been hunched over, wearing only a thin, worn pair of sleep pants, and had dropped to his knees in the center of this patch. The cuff that was attached to a metal stake in the patch was not expected. When the boy snapped it around his left ankle, Ruby frowned in curiosity, but rolled her eyes, knowing it wouldn’t take any time to get it off him. They all knew that while Sam Winchester was a behemoth of a young man, already well over six feet tall at 20, he had also presented as an omega, something John had openly despised since his own omega wife had died not long after the youngest son was born. 

Dean was as alpha as his father, loud, domineering, crude, aggressive, but little Sam had always been quiet and more apt to want to talk through issues without involving fists. Both sons had been trained in military hand-to-hand combat and weaponry, but Sam had dropped from the public view six years ago. It was insider information that confirmed that Sam had presented as an omega and had promptly committed suicide. And to the world at large, that had explained the mystery of the disappearing giant.

Ruby’s focus shifted around, watching the house, the patrols, and the apparently, not dead Sam. Once the boy had stepped outside, all the patrols automatically turned away from him and moved away out of his sight. And John only glanced out the window once at the tall man with a dark sneer before returning to the meeting. Sam had not shifted from his position, on his knees, head down, hands resting on his thighs. Apparently, John was punishing the boy for some transgression and the worst punishment for an omega besides castration, was lack of touch and/or attention. If John was truly as cruel as Crowley’s intel suggested, then Sam would remain outside for hours, if not the entire day before he’d be summoned inside at his father’s whim.

Unluckily for Sam, a rainstorm had been predicted and sure enough, the wind was beginning to pick up as dark clouds began to swarm over them. Ruby settled into her shadowy hidey hole in the giant oak that overlooked the backyard wall and waited. The meeting went on as the skies darkened. The lights inside went on and even the guards on patrol found shelter under the eaves or carport. Sam, however, wearing only the thin sleep pants, shivered silently, still in the open as the fat raindrops began to fall. As far as Ruby could tell, no one else even gave a second thought to the omega getting cold and wet on the lawn.

Once the heavier rain had begun to fall, it had darkened the day considerably, making Ruby’s next steps that much easier. Leaving her dry hollow, and instantly regretting it as the cold rain and wind bit into her, she scuttled through the shadows towards the shackled man. The first shiver she felt almost made her feel bad for the boy, but this was a mission and John Winchester had to pay, even if it was just through his blood kin.

When she reached his side, dagger in her hand to silence him if needed, she expected him to cry out or fight back. All he did though was flinch and throw himself forward so that his forehead touched the ground in prostration. There were mumbled apologies that confused her, but she was more confused when she reached for the ankle cuff to find that it wasn’t even locked, just loosely wrapped around his leg. She pulled it off him as she eyed his back, seeing the pale skin covered in goosebumps and shockingly, scars and bruises, some new, some older, already healing. She could identify where each rib lay and damned if it didn’t look like some of them might be broken, but she didn’t have time for sympathy.

Ruby grabbed his arm and pulled on him as she stood up, putting him between her and the windows, so she wouldn’t be seen if anyone happened to be looking out. He instantly quieted and rose to his feet, head still down. She had known he was tall, but he towered over her. There was a brief surge of fear that he could overpower her by sheer size before she registered the completely submissive stance and behavior. A tug on his arm in the direction of the wall was all that it took to get him moving, stumbling over the ground as it appeared that he was having a hard time lifting his feet properly.

“Can’t you go any faster?” She hissed angrily. He did flinch then, and the aborted lifting of his hands to defend himself did not go unnoticed. He took a deep breath before dropping them back into compliant positions.

“I will try, mistress,” was the soft reply. He did pick up the pace and by the time they reached the safety of the sheltering hedges by the wall, he was wavering and trembling. She held the dagger under the edge of his chin, pushing up just enough for him to lift his head so she could see his eyes. He would not look directly at her, but his green…no brown…odd-colored eyes were dull and unfocused.

“Now climb,” she growled, pointing at the area of the wall where the hedge and branches from the oak had precipitously grown into something like a ladder, with the mortar edges she had scraped from the bricks with another knife providing the missing steps. She would never have used the dagger she held now because to dull her main means of protection could mean death before her plans came to fruition. The young man blinked in incomprehension but a small slice across a bare pectoral got the message across. 

She shoved him towards the path over the wall and took her eyes off him only after he had reached up and had begun the scramble up the wall. Her dark eyes surveyed the area, noting that everything was still quiet, that either no one was aware of their escape or that no one cared that Sam was no longer in the spot to which John had exiled him. Smug that the evil head of the Winchester empire had no clue what Crowley was about to unleash, if they could get their plans moving before Lucifer Morningstar and his Fallen Angels cartel could take action, not even the FBI, with their so called ‘Choir Boys’ division would be able to interfere in time once it was in motion.

Ruby gripped the black dagger between her teeth and lithely climbed over the wall behind the tall omega. The oak shielded them from most of the heaviest rain as they passed over the wall but they were already soaked and the shade and wind that wasn’t cut enough still chilled Ruby, her fingers feeling nearly numb before she dropped onto the wildflower covered ground on the other side, next to Sam. The man was simply standing, well, swaying, head down, long, soaked hair black with rain, hanging over his face, waiting for her. She landed next to him with a cat’s grace and gripped his arm again, frowning at him. There was no time to spare for sympathetic thoughts, so she simply focused on getting them out of there. She tugged him along, crossing the service road that passed along the back wall, and then into the heavily wooded area on the other side. It was very dark beneath the interlocking treetops, another advantage for Ruby and her mission, but Sam trembled even more, stumbling along behind her.

She paused out of frustration and turned to glare at him. She could tell he was terrified even though he still refused to look at her, but that was to be expected when one was kidnapped at knife point, right? 

“Just keep moving,” She growled, yanking him this time, growling when he fell to his knees but scrambled up quickly and kept close behind her. 

After zig zagging through the forest for what felt like hours, Ruby sighed in relief to spot the pale, innocuous marker she had placed yesterday when she had first parked the stolen car behind the bushes, and then covered it with detritus to further hide it. Keeping her eyes flickering between the car as she scraped the camouflage away to get to the doors, and the forest behind them to make sure they weren’t being followed, she registered that Sam didn’t make a move to escape from her, to attack her, or to put up any resistance at all. It finally dawned on her what this meant, but sympathy was out of place for a Winchester so she smothered it and just focused on getting the car open (happy to remember to shut off the interior lights before) and shoving Sam into the front passenger seat. 

By now, her realization gave her more peace as she didn’t even spare him a glance after closing the door on him. She ran around to her side, pulled off the limbs and climbed inside beside him, reaching under the lip of the dash where she had hidden the key for quick escape. A few deep breaths to steady herself, a final glance at Sam huddled against the passenger door, hands folded in his lap, head down, trembling with fear and cold, and she crank up the car, grateful for the sound of the rain and thunder for covering up the engine sounds.

She backed out of the hiding spot without any lights and used the mental map in her head to pick her way between the trees and back to the main road where she had turned off into the park yesterday morning, before dawn. Once she hit the road, she turned on her headlights to appear to be a regular driver out in this storm, and cranked up the heater, shivering as the adrenaline wore off. She spared another look at the young man beside her and relying on what she now understood, she gave him an order.

“Get some sleep, boy,” she said in her most commanding tone. Being a beta, it was so much easier to hide her scent and thus was a great spy, but it was times like these that she would have given her eyeteeth for an alpha voice. The omega simply leaned further into the door, resting his head against the cold window, the rain sluicing down outside, and slumped down.

“Yes, mistress,” he muttered before he was completely out. It was nearly instantaneous which only confirmed her thoughts. She took a few deep breaths to steady herself, beginning to feel the warmth flow from the stolen car’s vents finally, before grabbing the cell phone from the console between the seats and hitting redial.

“I have a surprise for you,” she sing-songed as soon as the other side picked up. There was a pause and then a gruff reply. “No, it wouldn’t be a surprise then, would it? Just meet me in the garage when I arrive. And bring handcuffs.” There was another gruff reply, but she just chuckled and hung up the call. Another glance at the omega took in the shivering, the paleness, the bruising, the taut skin over his bones. “In another life, I’d make you mine,” she smirked, “but a job is a job.” She grunted in arousal before turning back to focus on the drive to Crowley’s hide-out.


	2. Crowley Isn't So Sure

Crowley’s face when she’d pulled up had been adorably confused once he’d seen she had a passenger. It connected that the passenger was probably a prisoner she had taken to help with the mission, but why was he half naked? And who was he? He twirled the handcuffs around his pointer finger while he waited for her step out of the car that he also did not recognize. The prisoner didn’t even twitch as she shut the door and came over to passionately kiss the dapperly dressed mob boss. He let his free hand roam over her back and squeeze her shapely ass cheek before pulling back to slap it playfully. She moaned into his mouth and then spun away to go to the passenger door. Crowley followed, curiosity more than peaked.

“And here I thought the handcuffs were for us,” his gruff voice with that lilting English accent of his teased her. He sauntered around closer to the rear of the car so nothing would be between him and the prisoner. One of his ever present bodyguards stood in the doorway between the garage and the main entrance to the bunker, a semi-automatic slung across his chest, hand hovering at the ready, but Ruby’s attitude gave Crowley the impression that the alpha knot-head would not be needed for this. 

“Maybe later,” Ruby smirked before tapping on the passenger door window, startling the figure leaning against it. Crowley expected the prisoner to freak out, become belligerent, or begin crying, but the half-naked man only flinched, then sat up straight, head still down. Crowley raised his eyebrows at Ruby and she laughed. “You’re going to love this.” She pulled the door open and leaned into the space. “Come out, boy.”

The prisoner turned and slid out of the passenger seat, unfolding slowly, but obviously stopping before reaching full height. Crowley took in the pale, scarred, shaking man with the long hair hanging over his bowed head. He saw the young man step sideways so Ruby could close the door, his shoulders hunched, knees bent a little, to minimize his own size. The bruises stood out more with the paleness and the goosebumps and it looked like he had been given a good thrashing by someone.

“Your work?” Crowley asked Ruby and she threw up her hands with a shake of her head.

“Nope, barely touched him,” she smiled. She was watching Crowley’s face for his reaction when she gave the next command. “Kneel, boy.” The giant instantly dropped next to her to his knees on the hard concrete, the sound making even the bodyguard flinch. His hands came to rest on his thighs and the trembling was stilled somewhat. Ruby laughed when Crowley’s eyebrows flew up in surprise.

“A trained slave?” he asked in surprise. “I thought John Winchester didn’t approve of slavery.” He looked to Ruby who grinned like the cat who at the canary and the cream. 

“A trained OMEGA slave,” she smirked, gesturing at the boy at her feet. Crowley gasped and took a closer look. Being a beta himself, he had hated the scents that alphas and omegas produced and had taken blockers so they were muted or non-existent to him. Otherwise he would have scented the boy. But now that he really looked closer, he could tell that Ruby wasn’t lying to him. 

“That’s bloody insane,” the sharply dressed man gasped quietly. He began to walk around the slave softly. “That’s punishable by death, no parole, no waiting period.” The horror on his face was delicious, but so was his arousal. His pants were tented instantly and he couldn’t help but reach out to run a hand over the omega’s wet hair. For his part, the kneeling man leaned into his hand for a second before shaking himself and returned to the waiting posture.

“Fergus Crowley, meet Sam Winchester,” Ruby gestured between them. Crowley instantly snatched his hand back and the slave did flinch then, a small whimper escaping him before going still and silent again.

“His fucking son?!” By now, Crowley was horrified and angry at the same time. He waited for Ruby to nod before he lashed out and punched the kneeling man in the side of his head, slamming him against the side of the car, where he rocked before he slid down with a whine. Crowley pulled back and landed a kick into his thigh, pulling another whimper from the slave. Ruby grabbed him and pulled him back.

“Now, now,” she soothed him, rubbing her hands up and down his chest and rubbing hard against the obvious hard on in his slacks. “Stop and think first.” Crowley growled angrily and spit at the figure who was struggling to return to the kneeling pose. There was fresh blood running down the side of Sam’s head, dripping onto his chest, and most definitely a new bruise was blossoming on his leg under the thin pants, but Sam returned patiently to the kneeling pose, trying to stop the swaying, but failing. He did succeed in stopping the sounds though, so only Crowley’s fast breathing sounded in the hollow room. “I’m pretty sure we need him alive for any plan against his father.”

“Cuff him and get him out of my sight,” Crowley yelled at the bodyguard, throwing the cuffs to the ground, before yanking away from Ruby and storming back into the underground complex. Ruby shook her head and smirked at Sam before turning to follow her boss. She handed the bodyguard the key to the car after he had retrieved the handcuffs off the floor.

“Get rid of the car too,” her silky voice laughed. “Wipe it, burn it, it never existed.” With that, she was through the entrance and on Crowley’s heels.

The guard shook his head and approached the thin, pale young man. He stayed far enough back that he could react if the prisoner attacked.

“Up, boy,” his alpha voice said. The prisoner rose slowly, using the side of the car to keep from falling over. “Turn and cross your arms behind you.” There was no hesitation as the man turned away from him and crossed his wrists at his lower back. The guard took a deep breath, taking in the sweet scent all omegas produced, but with the soured milk smell of omega fear, and shuddered. 

While in ‘normal’ society, omegas still had the same rights as alphas and betas, betas had gotten it into their heads that omegas only existed to keep alphas from going into hormonal rages and were necessary only for that as they were sterilized as soon as they presented. Omegas were rare as they were slowly being bred out of existence, but male omegas were unicorns amongst the already endangered species of secondary genders. Alphas were also slowly dwindling and soon only betas would reside in the vastly overpopulated world, but they were still very useful in military or combat positions, even more so with fewer omegas around to sooth them. There were new chemicals out that betas bought in droves that could calm alphas, making omegas obsolete. 

Betas made up 80% of the world’s population, with alphas making up the next 18%. With the last 2%, a miniscule number in contrast, the omegas were protected by law as an extremely endangered species. However, while they should have been cherished, there was only a very small population of betas and alphas who truly believed in equal rights for them. The majority believed the world would be better off without them. And yet still, there was also a small segment of high-ranking or just wealthy betas and a few alphas who bought omegas and kept them hidden away, most of them being treated like favorite pets, and a very, very small portion, like this one, apparently, just a slave that could go into heat and was naturally submissive. 

Cortez only sighed deeply as he spun the gun to his back and used both hands to push the omega against the car to remove any sort of leverage to resist, and then click both handcuffs in place. He was of the opinion that people should just live and let live but his job was his life so he did as he was told and he was paid handsomely for it. It didn’t stop him from gently pulling the omega back to standing instead of yanking him backwards as he would have done any other prisoner. He had heard all his life as betas had droned on about how alphas couldn’t control themselves around omegas and vice versa, but while being an alpha did make him more cognizant with other alphas and omegas around him, he, and every other alpha he had ever known, had never been the ‘hormonal knotheads’ they were made out to be in the media.

He pulled his gun back to the front and used his non-firing hand to guide the omega into the complex and down to the cold storage rooms that Crowley had converted into prison cells a year ago, right after this battle between the three major factions began. With the law right there on the outskirts of them all, watching and intervening when innocents got caught in the crossfire, it was a four-way skirmish and there was no clear winner any time soon.

The weak omega slave stumbled the entire way, barely able to lift his feet above the lip of the cell door, but Cortez patiently waited, letting him lean on the doorframe as he slowly made his way inside. While he knew if Crowley had been thinking straight or even there when he locked him in, he would have demanded the slave be left on his knees on the concrete to wait for punishment, Cortez took the chance to deliberately go against his boss, usually a good guy, and he helped the omega first sit and then lay down on the low, rough cot in the corner of the cell. He laid Sam on his side and pulled the thin blanket up over his shivering form. 

“Stay,” Cortez said, not expecting a reply.

“Yes, master,” was the soft, muffled response and Cortez sighed again. He left the cell door open, again something that went against his military training, and stepped down to the galley area at the end of the hall to retrieve a bottle of water. Returning to the cell, he squatted beside the man after spinning his gun to his back again. He helped ease the young man up a little after opening the bottle and offered it to his chapped lips. “Drink, slowly.”

The response was a dry clicking as the omega swallowed and then leaned forward a little to sip the water. Cortez could see the eyes shifting under the hair and felt the gaze fall on him for only a second, but he chose not to bring attention to it. Once the omega had sipped about a third of the bottle, he laid him back down and recapped the bottle.

“I’ll keep this with me so you won’t be blamed,” he said quietly, petting the young man’s hair gently. “Rest now, because I can’t promise anyone else will be as gentle.” The omega nodded into the mattress and closed his eyes.

“Thank you, master,” the soft, muffled voice drifted up. Cortez patted his head again before he grabbed the water bottle and stepped back into the hallway. For the first time ever, he cringed when the cell door clanged shut and then the locked clicked into place.

‘What the fuck are we doing?’ he asked himself, turning to lean his back against the wall beside the cell. He heard the quiet breaths even out as the omega fell asleep, then turned his senses to listen for any visitors to the hall so he could be alert and pretend to be actually guarding the prisoner.

*****

“Un-fucking-believable!” Crowley ranted and raved as he paced the room, throwing his arms up at random intervals. His face was red in rage and Ruby’s laughter wasn’t helping. He spun on her and gripped her throat tightly, causing her laugh to be cut off into choking gasps. He lifted her up from the chair where she had sat, so nonchalantly as he had raged. Her brain registered that this wasn’t his usual sexual rough housing and she panicked. She tried to grab for her hidden daggers, but he got there first, yanking them out and tossing them to the far side of the room. “Uh, uh, uh.” He chided her, shoving her against the nearest wall. Her hands came up to grip his, trying to loosen his hold.

“I’m not going to kill you yet,” he hissed, before he leaned down and licked her lips roughly, even as she choked and squirmed. “But you understand my position, yes love?” She frantically nodded with the little bit of leeway she had around his hand. There were spots in her vision and her throat was on fire, along with her lungs. He relaxed his grip a little as he saw her eyes begin to roll back and smirked as she gasped in deep breaths through what little space he had given her. “No passing out, my dear. It does no good to teach you a lesson if you can’t hear it.” With that, he released her and turned his back on her, showing his utter disregard for her in that one gesture.

She gasped and wobbled a bit before being able to stand straight again.

“Come, sit,” he said amiably, flopping onto the dark brown, leather sofa in his office, his emotions unreadable. He patted the sofa next to him with a seductive smile. Ruby swallowed, wincing at the pain, and came over slowly. He patted the sofa again, this time, the smile not reaching his eyes, and she dropped onto the seat, not taking her eyes from him. He stared at her for a few moments, his dark eyes roving over her body, before he spoke again. He pulled her into his embrace, pulling her back against her chest, kissing the nape of her neck.

“Aside from the moose-sized sex toy in the cell downstairs,” he grumbled next to her ear, making her shiver, “What else did you learn?” She swallowed again and leaned back into him, not completely relaxing quite yet.

She gave him the facts, cold, hard, not embellished as he ran his hands up and down her arms or squeezed her breast as was his wont. She explained the layout she had been able to map out, the patrols, the scheduled shift changes, the ones who had come and gone during her surveillance, as well as the one who had only appeared in the windows, first naked, and then as the leader of the military survivalist group. Crowley hummed or grunted at certain points but grew deadly quiet and still when she got to her first sighting of Sam and everything that came after. That quiet and stillness stretched until he finally shifted to release her so she could turn and face him. She did just that, watching as his hands took hers and held them on his thighs. He scrutinized her face.

“You know, if it wouldn’t remove your usefulness as the best spy in my cadre,” he grunted, “slave training would look good on you.” She flinched, wide-eyed and tried to pull away. He gripped her hands tightly and smiled, something very dark in his eyes. “You’re beautiful, athletic, and intelligent, but you don’t have the brain for the long game.”

She gulped and stilled, her eyes dropping to watch his hands as they never let up on the grip.

“While I admire your ability to act on your feet,” he said soothingly, even as he gripped a little tighter, making her knuckles go white, “If you had stopped to think for a moment, you would have realized that bringing John Winchester’s slave omega son INTO MY HOUSE,” He screamed into her face suddenly before sitting back again, easing up on the grip just enough that she was no longer gasping from the pain of the bones grinding together, “was an egregious error on your part. 

“If the boy was just John’s slave, I would be pleased because I could use his training to gather information about the prick, whatever limited information he might have, and either put the slave into use here or have him killed. If the boy was only an omega slave, I could use his training to get that same information and record it, sharing it with those FBI Choir Boys and getting John arrested and executed. The listening devices I’ve had my inside man plant in the main rooms have alerted me to the fact that most of the leaders, including his own bodyguard and son, do not entirely agree with John’s plans for the future. His death, while well deserved already for what he did to me and my family, would have left a rift open for their bigoted group to take a different direction, one less worrisome than it’s currently on.”

Crowley curled his fingers, pressing his manicured nails into Ruby’s palms and the back of her hand as his face went rigid and he finished through gritted teeth while she whimpered and squirmed, watching as blood began to appear and slide down her fingers.

“But because he’s John’s omega slave and SON,” he roared, “I can guarantee that John has trained him to not only never share information but will not have put him in any position to ever get any information. The shame of having an omega son has most likely caused that evil bastard to torture him in the process of training him as a slave, thereby assuring that the boy could and would never testify against him in any capacity. Not to mention, hiding him away to only be used and then put away like a warm sex toy.” 

Ruby felt the first tears gathering in her eyes, but not at the thought of what had been done to Sam, (that she really didn’t care about) but rather the pain in her hands and how badly Crowley would damage them before letting her go. Her without proper use of her hands could be detrimental to her ability to do her job. And as she was indentured to Crowley, he could put her through slave training and he wouldn’t bat an eyelash.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry. Please!” She was squirming again, moving as though to stand and then sitting again as she felt him not relenting. He glared at her for another moment before releasing her hands, throwing them away from himself. 

“Yes, well,” he said, leaning back to wipe his hands on a handkerchief he’d pulled from some inside pocket. “You can make it up to me while I decide what to do next.” He tucked the handkerchief back into the hidden pocket and then gestured to his tented slacks with a smirk. “Get to work.” 

Ruby flexed her hands to test them for damage and was relieved when it was only bruising and the crescent shaped slices in the skin. She nodded, blinking away the tears, as she dropped to her knees in front of the King of Hell, as he called himself, and reached to undo his belt. Crowley snorted and leaned back to watch.

“Mind the blood,” he snarled, tossing the handkerchief to her in disgust, “These slacks cost more than your salary.” She nodded, wiping her hands hurriedly before unbuttoning and unzipping the slacks, reaching in to grasp the hot and heavy cock that was already hard and leaking before her mouth even got near it. Crowley sighed and petted her dark hair as her breath hitched once and then she was sucking him down deep, to the back of her throat. “Good girl.” He moaned.


	3. Dean Puts Up with Gabe

“You do understand the meaning of ‘speed limit’, right Dean?” came the nervous laugh from beside him. The forest green eyes swiveled and take in the tense grip of his passenger on the door and he snorted.

“Dude, unclench,” the driver said. His calloused hands ghosted across the steering wheel, gripping it lightly only when needed for slight corrections. He shook his head, feeling the too long, dark blond hair wisp across the back of his neck. ‘Time for a freaking haircut. At least it wasn’t as long as S-,’ but he cut himself off before finishing that thought. 

“I would if I thought you weren’t trying to sling my guts into the backseat,” his passenger nervously laughed. His honey gold curls glistened with just a little sweat as he gulped in more air. The whiskey colored eyes swiveled from the road to the speedometer and back again. “You know, this isn’t what Assistant Director meant when he said ‘burn rubber’.” The deep laugh that came from the driver made him give a half smile, but he still reseated his grip on the handle.

“Gabe, seriously, I’m only doing five over the speed limit,” Dean smirked, “You freaking fly a private plane at over 300 mph. How can 80 be that damn scary?” He glanced over and saw his partner stare at him wide-eyed.

“Dean, in the sky, the most I’m likely to hit is a bird and even if the engine fails, I can coast in or water land. Cars are a death trap and a damned pebble in the wrong spot on the road could kill us and anyone we hit in the process.” Dean laughed again, shaking his head. He hadn’t felt this free since before his mother was murdered when he was four. While it was nice to think of the freedom, the thought of the arson that killed his omega mother by one of Lucifer Morningstar’s generals, Azazel, always lead to thoughts of his father and ultimately his brother and he couldn’t afford to spare any thoughts for either of them right now. 

“Come on, Gabe. Just enjoy the ride. Only another hour before we get to the temporary field station. We’ll stop for fuel for my Baby and some candy,” he drawled out the last word and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gabriel Shurley, his partner for the past year, finally relax a little as a dreamy smile crept up on his face.

“You think they’ll have cherry lollipops?” Gabe asked, looking over at his partner and friend. He knew that Dean was drop dead gorgeous but as straight as the day is long. If the alpha had even hinted that he swung in Gabe’s direction, he would have hit on him so fast that HR would magically appear like avenging angels. While Gabe was a beta, he was painfully aware that being gay and being teamed up with a male model type alpha was painful to his overactive libido.

Dean smirked at the shorter man, nodding gently.

“I’ll make sure to stop at a place that does.” And with that, Gabe relaxed, eyes turning out the side window to watch the scenery passing by. Dean smiled at the wistful look that was reflected in the passenger glass and saw and felt the ghost of another passenger overlaid over his partner. 

That long, chestnut hair slightly curling around the edges. The hazel eyes that changed colors with his moods and whatever he wore. The long legs taking up most of the passenger floorboard. If he had still been around after he finished growing, even that much room might not have been enough for the stupidly tall image that turned to laugh at Dean without sound. Dean felt heat prick behind his eyes and he growled softly, blinking away the emotion. He was a damned alpha. He didn’t know where the disgusting omega emotions were coming from. He’d just have to wipe those memories if he wanted to get ahead. It wouldn’t do to be distracted by ghosts while he was working with Gabe and their fellow ‘Choir Boys’ division. 

He and Gabe had just been promoted to the last open spots with the ‘Choir Boys’ a month ago. The division was a special task force designed to investigate and take down dangerous criminal factions, namely Lucifer Morningstar and his Fallen Angels cartel, and Fergus Crowley and his Legion mob gang. The Winchester family was not off the board, but as only Gabe and their superiors knew, due to conflict of interest, Dean could not be assigned to that case. He had proven himself to be not under his father’s influence and definitely not of the same mindset, but it was still an obstacle in his chosen career path. Bobby had suggested he change his last name before he joined the FBI and had gone with Smith to be truly generic, then fought to prove he was anything but. 

As far as he knew, no one else knew his true identity, but he expected to be outed every single day and continued to work to make his friends and coworkers see him for who he is and not who he was related to. When his mom had died in the arson fire, Dean had saved his little brother, who was only six months old at that time. He had run from the burning house with the image of Lucifer’s icy blue eyes staring at him and his cold laughter following hot on his heels. His father had returned just in time to run in to attempt to save Mary, only to watch her burning corpse fall through the ceiling from the 2nd floor where the fire had started in Sam’s nursery. John had later told Dean that it had been Lucifer that had set the fire and killed their mother because she was a whore omega and was cheating on their dad with the drug kingpin. 

John, a former marine, had moved ahead, raising his boys as best as he could while the cold fire burned in his heart. He had learned more combat and weapon skills and passed those onto his boys. He had made friends with an old military survivalist mechanic named Robert Singer, Bobby to his friends. Bobby’s wife, Karen, had died from an overdose of the same drug that Lucifer produced and distributed, called Hellfire. She had been pregnant so Bobby had lost his entire family that day. Bobby had taken to the boys like a second father and helped John raise them but gave the boys time and space to be children, while John only demanded obedience and training. 

Over the years that followed, John had gone out and raised an army of other military survivalists, former military, hunters, etc, who were all of the same mindset. Their basic ideal was to hunt down and kill the drug kingpin and his underlings. Crowley and his Legion had been on neutral ground with both Lucifer and John until several of his Legion thugs, following Crowley’s orders, had began making deals and taking territory, thus interfering in the battle between the two lifelong enemies. John hadn’t taken kindly to that and had Crowley’s home attacked, killing his wife and daughter in the process. Now it was a three-way battle and the Choir Boys had been formed to de-escalate the violence and stop the random violence that too many innocent people were caught up in. 

The FBI taskforce was made up of only a few alphas and a several betas. Astonishingly, the only omega to be found in the entire FBI was the sandwich delivery girl and she was mated to one of Dean’s friends. Anna was adorable and her husband, Benny, was stationed in the same area as Dean so they often got together for dinner and such. Sadly, due to the state of the ‘Omega Crisis’ currently threatening that part of the population, Anna was too terrified to leave the house unless Benny accompanied her, so most of their get togethers were at their house, with all the groceries and any necessities delivered to them. 

Other than his mother and Sam, Anna was the only omega Dean had ever gotten closer to than a city block. Not only were they rare, they were also mostly closeted away, hidden because they were sterilized once they presented and the slave trade had them marked as highly desired, no matter their age, race, or appearance. Dean was utterly disgusted by it all. Thus why he and Benny had become such good friends. Dean was sure though, that if Benny ever found out his parentage, he’d never be allowed within a mile of Anna again. And honestly, Anna was a big reason he went to Benny’s. Not because he desired her, but she reminded him so much of Sam that just that short time of being in the same room with an omega calmed and comforted him. Another reason he had never told anyone except Gabe and his superiors about Sam either. 

When his father had told Dean and Bobby that Sam had done the honorable thing for an ‘omega whore’ and killed himself, Bobby had been upset but Dean had been devastated. He knew that it was his father’s doing, that his father’s hatred of omegas because of their mother’s unfaithfulness, had put it into Sam’s head that he was better off dead. His father had not allowed anyone to see his son’s body and had it cremated and scattered over the park where their old house had once stood, so he could be with his mother and hopefully be something useful besides ‘omega trash’. That was the day that Dean had broken away, packed a bag, hugged Bobby with tears in his eyes and driven his 1967 Chevy Impala, that Sam had helped him restore, away from the compound with John screaming at him that he was persona non grata and disowned. Dean hadn’t even looked back.

He had tried to talk to Bobby or some of the others he thought were his friends after he found work and a place to live, but no one returned his calls. Just one from Bobby telling him good luck and that leaving was the best thing he could have done for his own sanity. Dean rubbed his hand over his face and then down his dark green tie, making it lie flat against his chest, where the sorrow was buried deep. He wasn’t in time to save his mother or his brother, but he would do his damnedest to save other innocent people from such heartless bastards as his father, Lucifer, and Crowley. 

He dragged himself back to the present as a sign flashed by for an exit that boasted gas, food, and a sweet shop. It was like fate was speaking to him. Or Gabe, because suddenly, the older, but shorter agent next to him was bouncing and pointing like he was a kid.

“Dean,” he whined and pouted. Dean threw on the blinker and checked the lanes before exiting, laughing out loud at the amazingly childlike man. 

“How you ever passed the FBI mental health screenings, I’ll never know.” Gabe just scoffed and glared at him. 

“I’ll have you know what you’re seeing is not mental health deficiencies,” the agent in the dark gray suit beside him pouted, “it’s evidence of my ability to see everything with fresh eyes. Childlike wonder.” Dean laughed again, pulling up next to the pump for gas. 

“Childlike wonder, my ass,” he muttered. He got out and gestured to the sweets store next to the gas station. Gabe’s face lit up and he took off towards his next sugar fix. “Bring me pie!” Dean yelled at him as he opened Baby’s gas cap. Gabe just raised two fingers in acknowledgement and kept up the fast walk. 

The Bureau finally had enough evidence to do a raid on the Legion underground bunker compound, the Fallen Angels cartel complex, and the Winchester stronghold simultaneously, so that it would be a surprise on all of them and keep any of them from getting time to hide any of their dirty secrets. The Legion bunker was in Kansas, and the Fallen Angels complex was in Wyoming in a destitute ghost town affectionately dubbed ‘The Cage’, or ‘The Hellgate’. The Winchester stronghold was in South Dakota, in one of Bobby Singer’s old haunts, a salvage yard serving as a front. 

Dean and Gabe were heading to meet the field team in Wyoming. Benny and Cole were on their way to meet the field team in Kansas. Jody and Zeke were on their way to South Dakota. They would coordinate the three teams for the simultaneous raids that would be the culmination of decades of work for the bureau and all of the contributing agencies. There were local and state police on each field team, as well as SWAT, military strike teams, and the FBI of course. 

To maintain objectivity, it was decided that whichever Choir Boy was assigned to that location, that was the only location they could interact with until all charges had been brought and all parties were in custody that they were aiming for. There was a huge stack of arrest warrants, search warrants, and writ decrees, all issued based on compiled witness and informant statements, and other evidence that had built up over the years. Dean’s only regret was Bobby but he had been written off by all of them, so he didn’t spare more than a few minutes to fret over the old man who had been a second father for him and his brother.

Because of their proximity to the Wyoming field team, Dean had driven his own car, the ’67 Chevy Impala, instead of the bureau assigned sedan. He had been given special permission because it was actually a tactic they wanted to use, to make Lucifer think that John was attacking and thus confuse the Fallen Angels cartel and minimize the injuries and death toll sure to mount up during the raid. Dean did worry that his Baby would get hurt, but he’d restored her a few times, twice from the ground up and was sure he could do it again. Besides, the opportunity to be key in taking down the man who murdered his mother was too good to pass up.

The gas pump had just clicked when Gabe, arms filled with white, candy store bags, a lollipop stick hanging from his mouth, came sauntering up to him, a wide smile gracing his baby soft face. Dean closed the gas cap and put his hands on his hips.

“You get any sticky crap on my seats,” he started, and Gabe closed his eyes and waved his hands the best he could to indicate he wouldn’t dream of it. “Okay, then. As long as you don’t.” He shook his head and headed back to the driver’s side. “We’re about 15 minutes out and t-minus 3 hours until the shindig. Don’t go all sugar coma between now and then.”

“De’an,” Gabe said around the red lollipop, red saliva leaking from the side of his mouth before he sucked it back and in and swallowed it down. Dean made a face and rolled his eyes. “In the big bag. Pie. Apple.” Dean stopped to look at his partner and raised an eyebrow before smiling. Gabe nodded at him sagely.

“All right then,” Dean laughed. “That’s what I’m talking about. Pie!”

He pulled back out on the highway after a quick look for traffic, then began reviewing the facts that they knew so they’d be ready to tackle this thing and be professional for the remainder of the event. Gabe grew serious as well, only breaking when he finished the lollipop and broke into one of the smaller bags for some rock candy. Dean rolled his eyes but didn’t indulge in any wayward thoughts as they pulled into the abandoned warehouse area, where a SWAT van, a prison bus, a multitude of armored vehicles and other sedans were parked. They both put away anything not to do with the raid and stepped out of the classic muscle car. They both straightened their suits, nodded to each other, and stepped into the warehouse where it was all professional and the countdown began


	4. Lucifer...Isn't a Complete Asshole

Lucifer Morningstar was frustrated this afternoon. He had heard rumblings about something big coming his way but so far, it had only been rumblings. His informants inside the local and state police offices had gone radio silent, and his plant in the FBI office was apologetic that he had no further information. Whatever the Choir Boys were up to, they had seemingly disappeared off the map over the past week and nothing of their plans were clear enough to make any counter plans. His informants at Crowley’s and Winchester’s were equally as nervous, but for different reasons. 

At the Winchester stronghold, the news was that John was outraged at something that he refused to elaborate on. No one had seen him this agitated since the day his youngest committed suicide and the oldest walked away from his father. Lucifer had chortled over that news, knowing that it was further destroying John’s sanity. He specifically put out notices to avoid Dean Winchester under threat of punishment because the last thing he wanted to do was drive John’s last surviving relative back into the fold. It would eat at John more and more every day and Lucifer had been absolutely delighted. 

He had positively wept tears from laughter when he learned that Dean had gotten a name change and was accepted into the FBI, becoming the exact opposite of what his father wanted. The only thing that could have made it better was if John’s youngest, who was rumored to have presented as an omega hours before he killed himself, had lived but escaped and gone on to also live a happy life. But for today, John’s outrage was a soothing balm, no matter what caused it.

The news from Crowley’s complex was confusing, to say the least. The only information he had been able to gather so far was that they had found an omega slave at the Winchester stronghold and Crowley was holding it in secrecy. It was so hush hush that no one outside of Crowley’s extreme inner circle knew anything more or if it was even more than a rumor. His informant had also heard rumors of something big coming for Crowley, but again, nothing tangible, nothing to sink his teeth into. 

Lucifer was an alpha, the last of his line. He had created the drug, Hellfire, while in college, and discovered that he could do very well by producing and selling it. Visually, it looked like frozen red flames due to the odd end process of flash freezing the vapors. What it did when crushed and snorted, however, was send an icy chill throughout the user’s bloodstream. Once the effect reached the brain, it created orgasmic-like feelings throughout the body, but not leaving the users wrung out like great sex, but hyped up, focused, and ready to take on the day. The first rush effect usually lasted about 5 minutes, but the after effects typically lasted around 5-6 hours. It was the favorite of college students everywhere. 

There were bad side effects but what drug doesn’t. Users who indulged more than once every few days usually ended up dead of a heart attack within a month. If they only indulged once a week, it could be years. If they only indulged every other week or only on a monthly basis, it was no riskier than drinking an energy drink once a week. Sadly, very few users practiced that type of moderation. The process and ingredients were amazingly simple and cheap but the only person who knew both was Lucifer himself. He’d take it to his grave, and thus he insured that people protected him wherever he went because he was the only source.

There had been knock offs but they were quickly debunked. None of them had the same appearance or affects. And the knock offs also tended to kill people almost immediately. He refused to take any responsibility for the deaths of people who couldn’t control themselves or were too stupid to pay attention. He was filthy rich and his product was in the market all over the world. Exporting it was pretty easy as there was no scent, no one had discovered a chemical that it reacted to with any consistency yet, and it was easily hidden as resin or glass flames in cheap figurines that got shipped to China. And no one suspected that cheap figurines being shipped TO China might not be legit. Go figure.

He had been raided a few times but nothing had ever been found to incriminate him as he wasn’t stupid enough to produce the product on his compound, nor did he keep records that weren’t coded by a very creative madman. Frank Deveraux may have been legitimately insane, but he was insanely smart and buried Lucifer’s transactions behind so much false and coded data that he could only trust that Frank wasn’t siphoning off money for himself because he couldn’t make heads or tails of the ledgers and records.

But he couldn’t argue that he wasn’t financially set, because he had more money that he’d ever know what to do with. He didn’t live a lavish lifestyle and didn’t have a partner to spend it on. He paid his employees well, doing his best to keep them in the dark for the largest part so they could never testify against him and also could not be held accountable if anything was discovered. There were a select few, trained slaves that he’d purchased for the critical step where finished drug met figurine production. 

Since all slaves had to volunteer, such as sign up to be permanent indentured servants that were paid a small salary that went to their family members or to pay some debt, something like selling themselves for their families’ sakes, then undergo the training, or be a hardened three time criminal with no hope to ever get out of prison, it was a win-win. He got workers purely focused on the task at hand and prison space was cleared or poor families received some financial relief. He felt pride in his ingenuity, as well as feeling he should be praised for his charity work, but sadly, not many others saw it the same way he did.

Crowley only used slaves for pleasure in his brothels and escort services but that’s where the animosity between them had reared its ugly head. Crowley tried to ingratiate himself to the powerful Lucifer Morningstar, drug kingpin and entrepreneur, by offering to supply some of his Legion as drug runners or slaves for the Fallen Angels use, and Lucifer had laughed in his face. He felt that the British import was less than a dog’s droppings under his feet and had told him so. He had explained with all the seriousness he could muster around his mirth that he’d never work with Crowley or his Legion as they were scum and thugs and his Fallen Angels were a family and honorable. 

Crowley had, of course, been entirely miffed. He’d commented that Lucifer must be loonier than the Ministry of Silly Walks. When Lucifer had instantly reacted to the insult and turned eyes so enraged that they virtually glowed red upon the short man in the smart business suit, Crowley had gulped and hastily removed himself from Lucifer’s property. In hindsight, the kingpin should have killed him on the spot and been done with the whole thing, but he’d shown mercy and thus had their strife begun, so many years ago. 

The conflict with John Winchester had been so much more complicated. He didn’t even like to think about it too hard but he knew that the only outcome he would accept would be John, utterly broken and destroyed, at his feet. Before Dean’s desertion, before Sam’s suicide, was Mary. He was blamed for her death, for nearly killing Dean and Sam, for creating the evil bastard that was the current John Winchester. He laid claim to only the second one, and only by accident. No one except he and John knew what really happened that night but he would not have willingly hurt either child as they were part of Mary. His beautiful Mary. 

He had fallen for the omega female before she met John but she had chosen John over Lucifer and that had hurt. He’d stayed back and watched from afar, watching her smiling and happy with his former rival. He’d watched as she’d swollen with the first child, a tow-headed little boy, who looked so much like her. Her smile when she took him to the park or the store with her was still as bright and warming, even if it wasn’t for him. Little Dean had been three and a half when John lost his job and took to drinking as a career. Her smile began to fade or be forced more than it should have been around that time.

Lucifer had kept in touch, if only tangentially, so when he realized Mary was beginning to fade and that John was the cause, he had shown up at her door to offer her an escape from the alcoholic alpha. She, of course, had still loved John and had refused, slamming the door in his face. The next day, John had shown up at his house in a rage because she had told him about the visit following his accusations smelling the other alpha in his doorway. Lucifer had said a few things in the heat of the moment, hoping to jar John from his dark path, but unfortunately it had the opposite affect and the husband of his dream omega became belligerent and possessive. He had accused Mary of cheating on him and ended up raping her when she’d refused his aggressive, drunk advanced. 

Not long after, Mary had begun to show and John, several degrees off plumb mentally, had not remembered the rape and accused Mary of infidelity and that this child was the proof. That was the beginning of the end of Mary. Her only goal from that point on was to protect Dean and her unborn child. Her smile faded and she became a complete slave to John’s whims to keep him placated. Lucifer was angry at himself that he perhaps caused this and should have kept his mouth shut.

By the time Sam was born, four-year-old Dean was his mother’s spitting image. Sam, however, looked just like his father. But John couldn’t see it. He was convinced that the little dark-haired boy was Lucifer’s and told anyone who would listen that Mary’s second child belonged to the devil but he’d kill them both before he’d let him have either one. Lucifer only wanted Mary but would take in both children gladly for her sake.

By the time he’d gotten up the courage to make the offer again, John was off on a hunting trip with his drinking buddies. It seemed like the opportune time, so his best friend, Azazel had driven him over. Azazel, a beta, had offered to come in and pack for the boys while Lucifer got Mary out. 

Sadly, he had arrived to a teary-eyed Dean who answered the door with a quiet, “Momma won’t wake up.” The wailing infant was still in his crib because Dean couldn’t get into it to get to his brother.

Lucifer had barged in, leaving the boys to Azazel and found her already dead of an overdose. In his rage and despair, he only thought to cover up her suicide so her children wouldn’t think less of her. Believing that Azazel was packing up the children, he snatched a few pictures of Mary for the boys, then lit a candle and tipped it over by some curtains, whispering his goodbye as the flames caught and spread quickly. 

He never expected Dean to come into the room and see the fire as it consumed Mary. The boy had screamed and screamed. Lucifer had grabbed him up and raced to the Sam’s nursery, there, finding Azazel with his hand in the crib, in the boy’s diaper, fondling the wailing child, rather than packing or comforting him. Lucifer had seen red and snatched a lazily smiling Azazel from the crib and throwing him out of the half-open second story window. By then, the flames had overtaken most of the upstairs bedrooms. His only choice was to snatch the distraught baby from his crib and hand him to Dean. He pointed Dean to the stairs and yelled at him to take his brother and go outside.

Lucifer followed quickly, making sure the young boy didn’t trip down the stairs with the baby. At the door, he was met by Azazel, who was limping and cut up from the window, but relatively unharmed. The beta had been smiling and tried to take the infant from Dean. Lucifer remembered snatching Azazel away from them and the fist fight that followed. He registered that the boys were safe on the sidewalk and neighbors were running up to take care of them before he laid Azazel out with a swift kick to the gonads, hearing an audible pop. 

Lucifer had laughed then, standing on the porch, smoke pouring out of the door behind him. A popped testicle was survivable but it would kill his sex drive and hinder any ability to molest children for a very long time. One of the neighbors had grabbed Lucifer and hauled him to the side street then, thinking he was the hero that had saved the children. That was when John Winchester’s Impala had pulled up and he ran towards the fire. He grabbed his boys and pulled them to the car, demanding to know what happened.

Dean, in his ineffable, four-year-old way, told his father about momma burning and the bad man touching Sam in the crib and that he had saved Sammy. John had wept then. He’d hugged his children and watched as police arrested an incoherent Azazel, who Dean had identified as the bad man. Lucifer had melted away into the darkness, mourning the sweet omega he had loved, believing this to be the defining moment for John as a father.

The next day, Azazel’s brother had bailed him out and they’d skipped town, knowing that not only was Azazel complicit in the drug trade, but that Lucifer had caught him molesting the six month old and would have him completely emasculated if he got his hands on him. This threw John further off kilter as the person he was convinced that had murdered his wife had escaped. No one knew it yet, but Dean and Sam were far from safe. 

The one thing Lucifer had done, however, in Mary’s honor, was to start a trust fund for Dean should he ever break free and manage to remain free more than five years. He had started one for Sam as well, but upon hearing of his suicide, he had dumped all of that money into Dean’s fund. Now, six years after breaking away, Lucifer’s lawyers were setting up some dummy accounts so the money could be given to him anonymously and it would never be traced back to the drug kingpin. Dean was set to receive a tidy sum and Lucifer was more than happy to know at least someone had survived John Winchester. And the fact that it was the son that looked like her, all the better.


	5. Crowley Is

Crowley sauntered down the nearly empty cell block and stopped next to the alpha guard stationed by the locked door. He waited a moment before sighing and gesturing for the knot-head to open the cell for him. The guard realized his boss was grouchy and threw open the door quickly before bowing nervously and backing away. Crowley shook his head at the guard. 

He stepped into the cell, taking in the omega slave, collapsed forward onto his chest on the concrete floor. The last time he’d come down, a few days ago, he had found the boy asleep on the cot with a blanket over him. That was not what he expected, as he’d not taken Cortez as one to either sympathize with omegas or the Winchesters. But the guard was exceptional at what he did, so he only fined the guard a month’s salary before taking him off prisoner duty permanently. He’d also snatched the boy off the cot and onto the concrete, startling him badly. The slave had landed face first on the concrete, scraping his face and smashing his nose. The blood had joined the dried rivulets from his head, but the slave had immediately found his way to his knees and assumed the position.

Crowley didn’t say a word but had kicked the boy in the stomach and grunted in satisfaction when he’d bent over double, smashing his forehead to the concrete again before pulling himself up into position again. The head remained bowed in subservience and the boy had not moved without being moved or being told to. With not another sound, Crowley had turned and walked out of the cell, slamming and locking the door behind him. He didn’t send the new guard down until 24 hours later and he had reported that the boy was still kneeling, swaying dangerously but not having moved from the spot.

If he could squash the rumors that this slave had come from the Winchester stronghold, he could be useful in one of the more secret, more exclusive brothels. Male omega slaves were the rarest of rare and he could fetch a very pretty penny for the use of this one until his body wore out. It was an idea with merit that he began to flesh out as he cleaned the blood off of his leather dress shoe. He hated the blood worse than anything but sometimes it could not be avoided.

This time, he squatted next to the slave and slapped the boy’s head very hard. The boy gasped and struggled to rise, but Crowley held his hand on the omega’s neck, effectively holding the weak slave in place.

“Now listen to me,” Crowley growled with a smile, “I know who you are and what you are, but from now on, you’re only a dollar sign. Do you understand me?” The slave kept his eyes closed and nodded. Crowley pressed his hand down harder, arching the slave’s neck and back. “I can’t hear you.” The slave gasped, his mouth opening and closing without making any other sound. Crowley let up slightly.

“Yes, master. I understand, master,” the boy whimpered, too tired, stressed and in pain to do anything else except agree. Crowley nodded and released the boy’s neck.

“Very good, boy.” He stood and backed away, pulling out the handkerchief to wipe the slave filth from his skin. “Stand up.” For his credit, the slave made the effort. He struggled to kneeling but when he tried to put his feet under him, he tottered sideways, falling over every time. Crowley allowed him to struggle for a good 15 minutes, sighing in disappointment every time he fell over, before he grabbed the boy by the chain connecting the handcuffs and snatched him to his feet. 

Again, the omega slave didn’t have the strength after so many days of abuse, lack of water, food, or proper sleep, and he fell over again, this time from standing, his head slamming into the concrete floor this time and knocking him out cold. Crowley rolled his eyes before stepping out and telling the guard to have someone collect the slave for a bath, as well as minimal nourishment and basic wound care so he didn’t die before he could make all his clients beg him for the first chance at the trained male omega slave. He chuckled internally to think what they would do or say if he let it slip out that it was John Winchester’s youngest son. But that would give away the game, wouldn’t it.

He walked away with a lighter step, enjoying his dark secret that he held over most of the world. What could make his day any better?


	6. Coordinated Raids

In several locations across the US, coordinated teams spilled out of vehicles and charged three major players on the FBI’s most wanted list. 

In South Dakota, many of John’s men died. Two local and one state police officer lost their lives and several others were wounded, but John Winchester was taken into custody. He had not gone quietly, but his grin as they led him away gave away his plan and sure enough, no one was inside when the bombs blew in the basement, destroying the cache of weapons and ammunition, as well as much of the evidence that would have been helpful. 

It had been Jody who had put the smile together with the threat as Zeke had nearly carried the handcuffed and shackled leader away. She’d ordered everyone out of the house and had frantically taken pictures of everything she could see with her cell phone before clearing the building herself. What she captured and the forensic evidence were enough, even though the destruction was heavy. Afterwards, they had the firefighters search the wreckage for anyone else, but it seemed only those who had already died by gunfire were the only bodies in the wreckage. 

All told, twelve of John’s men, including the patrol guards, had died, 17 more, including John, had been taken into custody. Several hard drives and security recordings had survived, enough information to put John away for life, as well as many of the others taken into custody. Bobby Singer had somehow slipped the net, but his name was attached to everything John’s was, so it was now only a matter of time.

In Wyoming, Lucifer Morningstar had not put up a fight. There were no shots fired and no one died. The compound was cleared and 13 employees and Lucifer were taken into custody. The only breakthrough was the discovery of a hidden fallout shelter on the far edge of the property. When it was breached, there was a single gunshot from within. Upon entering, they found a madman named Frank Deveraux with a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. While there was no directly identifiable evidence, the trigger to wipe the drives had errored out, thus negating Frank’s last-ditch efforts. 

That didn’t mean that there weren’t still obstacles, like Frank’s crazy encrypted system. Dean stepped aside so their computer tech, Charlie, could step in once it was cleared of ordinance or any dangers. He stood over her shoulder and watched in fascination as her fingers flew over the keyboard. Nothing on the screen made any sense to him but he could feel the beta’s anger and heard her snarl when something blocked her efforts. Moments later, she relaxed turned to high five him in his confusion.

“Madman versus Queen of Moondoor,” Charlie laughed. “Never a question.” Dean furrowed his brow but patted her shoulder.

“Okay, good job. I guess,” he said. She rolled her eyes before telling him to go find Gabe and let her do her job without alpha breath on her neck. He snorted, used to her teasing, and did just that.

Gabe was on the phone with the head office, putting in the initial report. He raised his eyebrow as Dean walked up. 

“Charlie’s got it,” Dean shrugged. Gabe smirked and relayed what Dean had said. To the head office, that was as good as a guarantee that everything they needed was only separated from them by a data stream. 

Dean turned to survey the prisoners and caught Lucifer looking at him with a fond smile. Dean found it unnerving and went over to challenge the alpha kingpin.

“What’s that look for?” he asked as soon as he was within hearing. The officer directing Lucifer to the waiting squad car paused. Lucifer tilted his head as his eyes roved over Dean from head to foot.

“You look so much like her,” was all he said. When Dean asked her who he was talking about, dreading that he knew as his father had always claimed that Lucifer had ordered Mary’s death, and he had his own fragmented memory of the fire and Lucifer’s laugh, Lucifer hadn’t answered, but had slid into the squad car without a fight. 

Dean glared at the drug kingpin, even after the car had pulled away. Gabe came up beside him and clapped him on the shoulder. 

“South Dakota reported in,” Gabe finally said once Dean turned to face him. “John Winchester is in custody, along with 16 others. Twelve of the bad guys dead. Three officers killed. House was blown up as a last-ditch effort by the crazy bastard, but Jody figured it out and got everyone out. And they salvaged enough evidence to put him away.” Dean took a deep, shuddering breath as he nodded. “I’d have expected more resistance or violence here, but hey, who’s to say how a criminal’s mind works.”

Dean snorted, not sharing his personal thoughts, knowing perfectly well that he had expected nothing less of his father. 

“Anything from Kansas yet?” he asked the shorter man. Gabe shook his head and then pulled a green lollipop from his inner coat pocket and plunked it into his mouth.

“Nothing yet,” he replied around the lollipop. 

To be honest, Crowley was the one wild card of them all. Everyone knew John Winchester was batshit nuts about combat and a ‘pure’ America. They expected gunfire, bombs, and death. With Lucifer, he’d been in business so long and was so open about it, that he’d been raided multiple times. They’d never been able to make anything stick, so he’d always picked up right where he left off. The drug kingpin had been so confident that he hadn’t bothered to do more than open the front gate for them and step back. He was probably as yet unaware that Frank’s shelter had been found or that Charlie was on the digital trail, something that boded ill for Lucifer. 

*****

In Kansas, the bunker took a little longer than anticipated to be breached and several employees had escaped out a secret back entrance before the police were on their tail, capturing a majority of them before they got very far. Inside the bunker, Crowley sat in front of the fireplace with a crystal tumbler of scotch in his hand. Benny held him at gunpoint while Cole had searched the mob boss. Finding nothing on him, they ordered him to stand to be handcuffed and arrested but when he stood, he stumbled and fell sideways onto the couch. 

He began seizing, with a red foam spilling from his mouth. Cole and Benny stood back and watched the coward who had hurt so many people for fun died from self-administered poison. The raiding party had arrested 21 employees, including two alpha guards. The only deaths were Crowley, two alpha guards, who had fired on the police officers and SWAT and been taken down, and one dark-haired woman, identified by other employees as Crowley’s right hand woman, Ruby. There were also three pleasure slaves taken in to be sorted out and distributed or returned to previous statuses and down on the cell block, they found only one cell occupied.

The guard in front of it was dead, but the male omega handcuffed and bloody inside, was unconscious and obviously very abused. Benny cringed at all the blood and scars, including the still seeping wounds around the handcuffs and the head wound, but called up for an EMT as priority. He may have been a beta, but so many years with his omega wife had acclimatized him to the rare scent of an omega. The typical divine, alluring scent omegas gave out was usually very sweet, but the smell here was more like rotted meat with a sickly syrup poured over it. 

He squatted next to the unconscious man until the EMT arrived. He got the okay to remove the cuffs and did so very gently. They had been too tight and on so long that there were lacerations and scrapes all the way around. He helped the EMT turn the omega over so he could begin to triage the multitude of injuries on the man. From the layered scarring and bruises, the too tight skin over misaligned broken bones, it was obvious this poor male omega had suffered for years. There had been no intel of Crowley having a male omega but that wasn’t to say he hadn’t been there for a long time.

Cole finally made his way down with the other EMT and a gurney. Cole’s face flashed in horror before he schooled it to non-committal. Benny stood up and shuffled out of the cell, out of the way of the EMT’s. 

“Where did this one come from?” Cole asked quietly. Benny ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. He looked down the hallway, both ends before answering.

“I don’t know, brother, but if we hadn’t pushed these raids up by those two days, I’m pretty sure this omega would be dead.” Cole only nodded solemnly.

“Anything to add to the report?” he asked Benny. Benny gestured to the tortured man being strapped to the gurney and grunted. 

“I’m sure we’ll have more once the doctors have had a chance for a full exam.” He paused and took another deep breath. “And I’m a fearing that what they tell us is gonna break my heart.” Cole patted Benny on the shoulder before stepping back to the surface level to call in the report.

*****

Dean was leaning against his car, half-eaten pie tin in one hand, loaded fork in the other. Gabe walked up and laughed. 

“Did you steal a fork from Lucifer’s kitchen?” Dean frowned at him and shook his head.

“Nah, man. I keep one in the glove box for pie-related emergencies.” Gabe’s face fell open in surprise, then disgust as Dean smiled wide, the masticated apple pie showing through his teeth. “Don’t everyone?” Gabe grunted a ‘no’ as he answered his ringing phone. 

Dean continued to eat his victory pie while he watched Gabe’s face go through several emotions. There were a few exclamations of incredulousness and surprise, but Dean only mouthed ‘what?’ at him and then waited until he hung up.

“Get this,” Gabe told him, voice full of wonder, “Crowley poisoned himself rather than be captured and they found a severely abused male omega locked away in the basement prison cells.” Dean stopped chewing and swallowed hard, feeling the over-sized piece fight its way down. He coughed for a second before responding. 

“A male omega?” He grated out. Gabe nodded slowly. “When was the last time you saw a male omega ever, Gabe? There are like 25 reported worldwide. How the hell did Crowley get one and why abuse him and lock him up?”

“I don’t know, Dean,” came the same voice of wonder. 

“Who the hell is it, Gabe?” Dean was beginning to get angry. “Did he give them a name? A family member we can contact for him? He shouldn’t be alone, Gabe.” He turned and tossed the pie tin onto the car’s roof, the jolt making part of the pie jump out and land on the metal. The threw the fork into the tin as well before standing up quickly, facing Gabe, clear aggression in his face.

“I don’t know, Dean!” Gabe shouted back at him. “They said he was unconscious. Benny was able to identify him as omega by smell but said the scent was so much like rotted meat that he was afraid it was too late.” Dean stomped away from the car, one hand on his hip, the other running over his lower face. 

“Damn it!” Dean grumbled. Ever since Sam had killed himself, Dean had been hyper aware of omega rights and the fact that male omegas were rarer than sunshine in a coal mine. He blamed himself for not being there the day Sam presented, believing that he could have talked Sam out of it if he had been there to sooth the almost teenager. He would have stolen Sam away and run far from their father if he had been there in time, but he hadn’t been there and had lost the only family he cared about. 

“Dean,” Gabe said softly. Dean stopped and turned to look at his partner. “He’s been taken to the hospital in Lawrence if you want to go. I won’t stop you and I know the higher-ups won’t either.” It was unspoken between them, that only he and they knew who his father is and what his brother was. Dean nodded and swept the pie tin off his car roof onto Lucifer’s near immaculate driveway. “I have to stay for the coordination and cleanup effort but call me when you have more info.” Gabe leaned in the passenger window to ask this of Dean, who couldn’t talk, but the look of gratitude on his face was enough for Gabe. The blond agent leaned back, patting the passenger side door. “Drive safe, Dean-o!”

He watched the black muscle car roar down the road, several curious gazes in the milling raiding party following it, but no one questioned it. 

“Okay, okay, let’s get this wrapped up and get forensics in here,” Gabe yelled to the remaining people. He glanced back towards where he’d last seen the car and sent a silent prayer to the angels to watch over Dean and the male omega. 


	7. Reunited, and It Feels So Good

It was over 600 miles from the Wyoming compound to the Lawrence, Kansas, hospital, and Dean made the most of it. His first action was to call his direct supervisor and explain what he was doing and why. The Assistant Director had gone quiet for a few breaths, then simply replied with ‘okay’. Dean hadn’t questioned it, but had thanked him for understanding. The Assistant Director’s daughter was an omega. She had been kidnapped and brutally raped several years ago. They had caught the assailants and they had been put to death, but she was still catatonic and her only response to any stimuli was either screaming or absolutely nothing. 

Secondary genders were dying out, not to be replaced, but it was still understood that they should not be treated like property or objects in the meantime. 

Dean stopped several times in the little over 9 hours he was on the road. There were a few gas fill ups and coffee. Always coffee. Dean had also grabbed comfort food, not realizing until he reached absently into the bag for a snack that he had grabbed Sam’s favorite comfort road food, gas station doughnuts. Smiling sadly, he ate one and left the rest in the bag. 

Just outside of Lawrence, his supervisor called him and asked him to pull over so they could talk seriously for a moment. Dean grumbled but did as he was asked. He waited for the serious talk and was surprised to hear his boss hesitate like he was nervous.

“Just spit it out, boss,” Dean grumbled. The Assistant Director sighed and then spoke calmly, hoping to keep Dean calm too.

“I just got off the phone with Benny,” came the first gentle words. Dean stilled, knowing this had to be about the male omega. Maybe he had already died and Dean’s race to the hospital was in vain. “The male omega is alive, but the list of injuries, old and new, are staggering. They’re pretty sure he’ll be in therapy and under protective custody for the rest of his life.” Dean sighed in relief.

“That’s good news, right?” Dean asked. The other voice hesitated again.

“He hasn’t woken up yet for more than a few minutes at a time.” There was another pause. “They had brought one of the alpha guards in with a stab wound from one of Crowley’s cohorts, a woman named Ruby. She had a well-hidden knife in the transport vehicle and was out to silence all the other prisoners. She was killed by the guard before she could finish him off.”

“Yeah, okay, bitch deserved it.” Dean was getting frustrated and leaned forward to crank the car back up.

“The guard identified the male omega,” the voice said softly. Dean pulled back and froze. “He said the young man was kidnapped from John Winchester’s stronghold.” Dean swallowed and his breath caught in his throat. “The guard told Benny the young man is Sam Winchester.” 

Dean’s world went white for a moment, all sound drowned out by a buzzing that only died down when his own heartbeat intruded. He realized his supervisor was trying to get his attention and blinked hard, gulping in air before he could form anything remotely resembling coherent speech.

“Dean? Can you hear me? Damn it, Dean, answer me or I’m sending Benny to your coordinates,” the voice was insistent now. Dean growled deep in his chest.

“It can’t be,” finally bubbled up. The man on the other end breathed a sigh of relief. “That bastard told me he had killed himself.” Dean’s hand on the steering wheel was clenched so tightly, the leather squeaked in protest. 

“Listen to me, Dean. You’re the only one who can properly identify him. How close are you?”

“Not close enough,” Dean growled and hung up. He tossed the phone onto the seat beside him, knowing the Assistant Director was probably already looking at his GPS signal and calling Benny to give him the heads up. He wouldn’t tell him Dean’s true identity, but he’d probably tell him that Dean would be emotionally involved and was the only one who could accurately identify if the male omega really was the supposedly dead son of the man responsible for the deaths of so many innocent lives. 

The rest of the drive was a blur, only the flashing GPS on his dash keeping his focus as he made the final distance as quickly as he could. Once the hospital was in view, he struggled to calm his alpha side down. Even if it wasn’t Sam, the omega would smell the aggression and rage and it would not be a pretty picture. He centered himself, taking deep breaths before he parked and got out. Just to give himself something to think about, he grabbed the doughnuts and made sure Baby was in between the lines before he forced himself to calmly walk into the ER lobby. 

He pulled out his badge and was just starting his request to the receptionist when Benny came around the corner.

“Dean, good timing, brother,” he said, throwing an arm around Dean’s shoulders. Benny could feel the other man shaking, could catch a whiff of forest fire scent coming off him, so he stopped Dean in the hallway. “You gotta get a grip, brother. That boy in there has been tortured. He’s been slave trained and-.” Dean blinked and turned on Benny so quickly that the other agent gasped.

“Slave. Trained?” Dean asked slowly, his eyes narrowed to dark green slits, the forest fire scent flowing off him in rolling waves. Several nurses walking by staggered at the scent. One alpha guard turned and put a hand on his holster. Benny waved him off.

“Dean, focus, damn it,” Benny squared himself in front of his friend. Dean closed his eyes and took some deep breaths, quieting the rage a little. 

His father was a dead man walking. Even if he managed to make bail, he’d never see another sunrise. Dean would take the hit for that, but the knowledge that Sammy had been alive for the last six years, had been slave trained and tortured, all hidden by his father’s lies, washed over him and made him white out again for a moment. Benny shook him until he returned his focus.

“Brother, that poor soul in there needs a soothing alpha, not some raging knot-head,” Benny said quietly. “You’re the only alpha that’s been cleared to go in there and right now, I don’t trust you to sooth a potato. You’ve got to calm the fuck down.” That did it for Dean. His rage collapsed and his shoulders dropped. The red haze lifted to see Benny smiling at him softly. 

“You Cajun bastard,” Dean said finally. Benny laughed and hugged Dean to him. 

“Yours truly,” Benny smiled as he sniffed his friend. The scent was still there, but faint and fading now. He patted Dean’s shoulders. “Okay, you know your main job is just identify the male slave omega right now and then we’ll go from there.” It was a statement, made for Dean’s benefit, to keep him centered, to keep his mind off having to make any choices.

“Yep, I can do this,” Dean replied. He moved towards the door the Cajun man had indicated but stopped with his hand hovering over the handle. He turned back to Benny. “Um, later, I can’t promise how soon, but we need to talk.”

Benny gave him a concerned look. Dean was quick to reassure him.

“No, I didn’t hit on Anna or anything, but it’s related to everything that’s happened today and how it’s going to change everything.” Dean looked sad and guilty at the same time, but Benny refused to jump to conclusions.

“Whatever it is, I promise, brother, no judgements until you get to the end.” Dean nodded. Then nodded again, more to himself. He turned, took a deep breath and turned the handle. The door slid open quietly on the dark room. Since this was an omega patient and torture and abuse had been evident, it was preferable that the patient wake up soothing sights and sounds, rather than glaring hospital lights and loud beeping. 

Dean stepped in, allowing the door to close behind him. The first breath he took, he could tell what Benny had meant about the rotten meat scent. It was horrifying and if this was indicative of the current state of wellness of the omega, this wasn’t just years of therapy. This was the rest of his life being cuddled and loved and soothed. 

Dean eased closer trying to get a better look at the really long, but skinny body in the bed. The room was a play on shadows but once he was within arms reach of the side of the bed, he gasped and had to cover his mouth to keep from crying out loud. He was a lot taller, his feet touching the foot panel of the bed. The hair was longer than some girls’, and there was an obvious lack of softness that had been part of preteen Sam, but the male omega sleeping in the bed was his little brother. 

Dean staggered backwards and fell into the chair, astonished that he hadn’t missed it and fallen on his ass. His eyes filled with tears as he pressed his knuckles against his lips to quiet himself. He swallowed harshly, then flinched when he heard the sound of a paper bag falling to the floor. He had forgotten all about the bag of doughnuts in his hand and they had simply been released in his astonishment.

The sound had also apparently startled the omega who tried to sit up quickly. Feeling the IV line and other tubes holding him back, he started to panic, eyes darting around the room. His hair was flailing and there was a whimper with each movement. Dean was up and leaning towards him before he could stop himself. Those glassy, stormy eyes snapped to Dean’s face for a second before dropping to his chest. He stopped thrashing and quieted. The hand that had been pressed to his mouth now gently touch the boy’s chest, right over his heart.

“Sammy?” Dean nearly whispered, but the omega heard him and froze. Dean could feel the heart racing under his hand. He used his other hand to lift Sam’s chin and gently make him look at his face. Dean had to swallow before he could speak again. “Sammy, it’s Dean. Do you recognize me, little brother?” 

Sam’s eyes slowly cleared and took in the face in front of him. He hitched in a breath, then another. He seemed to choke on the next breath.

“De?” Sammy rasped out. Dean felt the tears flow freely then and he smiled and laughed. He nodded frantically.

“Sammy, oh god, Sammy,” Dean gasped and leaned down to wrap his arms around the far too skinny man who he had believed dead for the past six years. Sam flinched at first, then timidly reached his free arm up to wrap it around Dean. The older brother could feel it shaking, whether it was from the emotions or lack of strength he didn’t know, but he leaned his head to lay his forehead against Sam’s, just like when they were younger and comforting each other after one of John’s alcoholic rages. 

Sam began to sob then, heart wrenching, body wracking sobs. Dean felt off balance leaning like he was over the side of the bed, but if it was a comfort needed by Sam, by god, he’d suffer the torments of Hell. Dean heard his phone text message ding in his pocket but he refused to let go until Sam did. It took a good few minutes before the younger brother fell back into an exhausted sleep and his weak grip loosened, arm falling back to the bed. 

Dean maneuvered himself back to standing but refused to let go of Sam’s hand. He felt around until he got the damned phone out of his pocket and wiped his eyes on his suit jacket before looking at the message. It was from Benny. He was asking if he could confirm identity yet. Because they wanted to pin this to John Winchester too and get him dead as soon as possible. 

Dean snorted, feeling the snot from his crying trying to drip. He snuffled it back, like a little kid before awkwardly replying to the text with only his thumb while supporting it with the rest of the fingers of the same hand. 

‘Identity confirmed.’ That was all that was needed. But Dean added something. ‘I’m not leaving him again.’ While that would be cryptic to Benny, he knew he’d share it with the team. The Assistant Director and Gabe would recognize it for what it was. If it was deciphered by Benny, he didn’t know if he’d be forgiven for lying or who he really was or not, but Sammy was all that mattered anymore. 

He slipped off his shoes and jacket, switching the hand that was holding Sam’s with whatever one was free to accomplish this. Last was his tie, loosened enough to pull over his head and toss into the chair with the jacket. He rolled up his shirt sleeves and opened the top few buttons before making his way to the other side of the bed, the side without all the tubes, and climbing up next to the too skinny man. He slid Sam over gently, making sure to give him all the room he needed, which sadly, wasn’t much. 

“Guess once you get healthy again, you won’t be so little anymore, huh, little brother?” Dean huffed a laugh into Sam’s lank, but clean hair and kissed his temple gently. The phone text message dinged again, but he left it in his jacket pocket and he wasn’t moving for anything in the world. He snuggled into his brother’s side and held him as gently as he could, a smile splitting his face, sure that he’d be wide awake for the next few days.


	8. Hospital Meals are Bland

The instant Sam shifted Dean woke up. It was apparently morning now as sunlight was filtering through the window blinds. Dean lifted his head and yawned hugely, smiling down at the face gazing up at him. The chapped lips were lifted in a soft smile, the head tilted towards his shoulder. Dean kissed Sam’s temple again before climbing out of the bed. Sam looked panicky, but Dean soothed him with shushes and a brush of his hand down Sam’s arm.

“You have a catheter, little brother,” Dean teased the young man. “I still have to pee like a plebe.” Sam calmed but there was still worry in his eyes. Dean looked around and saw the door to the restroom not 20 feet away. “I’ll be right there,” he gestured with his head, “And I’ll leave the door open so you can see me and hear me. And I’m pretty sure just as I pull my junk out, some pretty nurse is going to pop in and catch me like that.” Sam looked surprised to hear himself giggle and tried to slip back into slave mode.

Dean quickly put the kibosh on his bladder’s demands and returned to Sam’s bedside. He leaned down to offer his neck to Sam to scent. He used the calmest technique he knew of and felt his brother slowly respond to the scent. He finally unfroze and looked directly at Dean’s face again. The soft smile returned.

“Yeah, still gotta piss though,” Dean smirked, running a hand through his brother’s long hair. Sam leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. Dean pressed his hand to Sam’s cheek and then stepped back again. He walked backwards so Sam could continue to see his eyes and his face. “I hope that toilet is turned the right way or I’m going to have to start yoga to learn how to get my head to do that owl spin.” 

Sam nearly giggled again but covered it with his free hand before it could escape. While Dean really missing hearing his brother laugh, it was obviously too much, too soon. He’d take what he could get. 

“Watch the door for me, will ya?” Dean joked as he pulled the bathroom door opened and struggled to get his pants open and zipper down before his bladder gave up waiting for permission. 

There was only a moment when he had to look away to aim at the thankfully sideways angled toilet. When his eyes came back to Sam’s, he was surprised to find Sam still watching him, but decidedly avoiding looking at his genitalia. Dean tried not to blush as he finished and shook off the last few drops. He was just tucking himself back in when the door to the hallway opened and a female beta doctor and female beta nurse both stepped inside. 

Dean hurried to flush and wash his hands, but turning back, sure enough, Sam was in full slave mode again, eyes down, vacant stare, no expression, no movement. He hurried over to Sam’s bedside and took up the now cold and lax hand. He squeezed it gently in reassurance but got no response. He had worked with a few rescued slaves while with the FBI and this was textbook behavior, but to see it in his own brother just cut another sliver of his heart.

The doctor was gentle and efficient as she took his vitals, examining the wounds under the bandages Dean was just now noticing circling his wrists. She continued using soft touches and a quiet voice to ask questions, such as ‘are you hurting?’ and ‘do you know where you are?’ while she checked his pupil responses and checked spots on his head for apparent tenderness.

Sam was so deep into slave mode that he would not admit to any pain, but he did answer that he was in a hospital and ended every sentence with ‘mistress’. The nurse was making notes on a tablet device and handed it over after the brief examination for the doctor to sign electronically. The saline bag was changed, as well as whatever medication had been in the now empty upside-down bottle. It was done so quietly and efficiently that it appeared not to register to Sam at all. The doctor and nurse had finally finished whatever they had come to do and the nurse quietly ducked out of the room. 

The doctor spied the bag on the floor and opened it, then sat it on the bedside table with a soft smile. She gestured for Dean to follow her to the far side of the room so that he would still be in Sam’s eyeline but he shouldn’t be able to hear their conversation. Once they were against the far wall, turned so that Dean could keep an eye on Sam too, she spoke softly enough that he could only understand her if he leaned in.

“I’m Doctor Cason,” She started, holding out her hand to Dean. He shook it perfunctorily.

“Dean Smith.”

“You apparently have a connection to this young man?” Dean glanced at her face, noting the hopeful nature, not the busybody type. He nodded.

“We’re related,” he said, his deep voice carrying more than he’d like. She nodded back at him.

“You appear to be able to get through to him. He woke up once before you arrived but panicked until he fell into slave mindset. It was heart breaking to see. I know he’s back there at the moment, but somehow, he’s reacting to you and in a positive way.” Dean’s brows came down in a questioning look. “We are monitoring his vitals at the station in the hallway. When you first came in last night, they spiked and we were going to come sedate him for his safety, but his vitals settled very quickly.” She caught Dean’s soft smile. 

“As you’re probably aware, we’ve seen our share of abused slaves or even abused omegas, but never an abused slave omega, much less a male one.” Dean’s face darkened. She hurried on. “His injuries and scars suggest this has been going on for many years. Everything from being burned with cigars, beaten with whips, even raped repeatedly.” Dean battled to control the rage that was building, the forest fire scent wafting into the beta doctor’s face. She put a calming hand on his arm. He centered on that touch. 

“He’s been through Hell and back and is going to need someone he can connect with, someone who can hold him through it and remind him he’s loved. I have a feeling that’s going to be you.”

“Damn right,” Dean growled, scrubbing his hand over his face, trying to pull the stress out with the motion. 

“I’m assuming you were unaware until last night of what he was going through?” Dean’s head whipped around.

“Until last night, I thought he was dead. I was told he had committed suicide six years ago.” She nodded sadly. 

“There are so many scars that I couldn’t confirm if there was an actual attempt or if it was just a lie to misdirect you away from him, but I can tell you that right now, he has three ribs that had to be rebroken and reset, two cracked ribs, a heavily bruised liver, a mild concussion, malnutrition, moderate dehydration, and severe exhaustion. There are deep tissue bruises all over him. This is just the physical side.” She hesitated, watching Dean as he watched Sam.

“I’ve worked with a rescued slave group in the past,” he said softly. Even though legal slaves had to be volunteers or severely hardened criminals with no hope for a future or redemption, illegal slaves still happened. People were kidnapped off the streets or sold by family members. Apparently indentured servitude wasn’t enough for some demands. She tilted her head.

“So you know to expect the PTSD, the relapses, the regressions, etc,” her voice was sad for them both. 

“Yeah, been there, done that, but this one is personal.” She smiled faintly.

“Then I know he’ll be in good hands.” Dean glanced at her guiltily before looking away again. Maintaining eye contact with a rescued slave helped them ground to the moment and reminded them that they existed even outside of their ‘useful’ times. 

“How long before I can take him home? Or even just have him transferred to a facility closer to our home?” Dean had automatically called his apartment ‘our’, never once faltering that from now on, it was ‘our’ everything. 

“Some things will take time and can be handled outside this environment. Others, like the malnutrition and dehydration, cannot be done safely outside to our satisfaction. This patient-“

“Sam,” Dean interrupted her. “His name is Sam.”

“Sam is severely underweight. He’s so dehydrated we almost couldn’t peel his eyelids back to check his pupils when he was brought in. He can sleep off the exhaustion, but we’d like him to remain here and to eat and drink properly nutritious food under our supervision until he’s no longer a brittle twig.” Dean snorted sadly. “And while we appreciate your efforts to help with doughnuts, something very few people can resist, they’re empty calories and sugar that will not help him at all at this point.” Dean looked down at her with an honest smile.

“Honestly,” he said after a moment, “I bought them on a whim on my way here. They used to be his favorite comfort food as a kid. I didn’t even know it was him until after I bought them.”

“You remembered and made the effort. That’s a good start. Now, as you’re aware, he’s responding to you, but you alone. That means whenever anyone else comes into the room…”

“He’s going to drop back into slave mindset,” he finished, hanging his head.

“Yes. And you’re going to have to be his buffer from the outside world until he can relearn to stay out of that mindset. You’re also going to have be patient and not get frustrated that he’s not progressing as fast as you’d like or had hoped. Small things may set him off and it may be too late before you discover what those things are. It’s going to be rough and a long haul but if you truly care for him as I’m betting you do, you’ll both hopefully make it out the other side.” He laughed softly.

“You’re all sunshine and rainbows, aren’t you?” She returned his soft laugh.

“Only doughnuts are meant to be sugar coated, Dean. You seem like a ‘give it to me straight’ kind of guy, so I’m going to continue to be honest as time continues. My only request is that you don’t hold anything from us either. If he has an episode that we’re unaware of. If something sets him off. If he appears suddenly suicidal…” Dean swallowed loudly, his eyes pricking in fear. “It’s a legitimate concern, but with you here to help him, we’re all hoping it’s only a pessimistic concern. And we all aim for optimism here.” She smiled up at him before turning her eyes back to Sam.

“So when’s his first meal?” Dean was eyeing those too prominent cheekbones and shoulder bones. 

“Because this situation is so unique, we’ll provide five small meals a day to get him acclimated to even eating again. It’ll be soups to begin with, horribly bland, but nutritious. We’ll bring you meals as well, as his designated caregiver.” He raised an eyebrow at her. She laughed.

“You’ll have more of a choice, however, it’ll still be a very limited menu. We’re not a restaurant.” She saw Dean sigh and felt an echoing sigh from Sam. It was subtle and would have been missed if she hadn’t been watching. “I think this is a good start. I’ll leave you two alone for a bit. The first meal will be brought in about an hour. His will be the soup we mentioned. Would you prefer a ham and cheese sandwich on white or the cafeteria meatloaf with bland mashed potatoes?” 

He shrugged, too tired to care what it was.

“Sandwich,” was his final answer. She nodded and slipped out the door. 

Dean returned to the bedside and tossed the paper bag into the garbage. If Sam couldn’t have them, he wasn’t going to eat them in front of him. He pulled the chair closer to the bed and leaned forward, taking his brother’s hand again.

“You with me, Sammy?” he asked quietly, rubbing his thumb gently over the back of Sam’s hand. Sam’s eyes lifted briefly to his face, then dropped again. “You take your time, little brother. I’m not going anywhere.” Dean leaned back in the chair, maintaining the minimal distance so he could comfortably continue to hold Sam’s hand.

They sat like that for the next hour and only Dean jumped when the door opened slowly. The same beta nurse backed in pushing a small serving cart, two covered dishes on top, along with several bottles of water. Dean pulled the cart from her as she pushed it towards him, not getting too close.

“Just leave it outside the door and it’ll be collected,” she whispered to Dean. He nodded. “The selections for your next meal are on the paper under the plate, along with a crayon. Mark what you’d like and it’ll be brought up at dinner time. Sam’s next meal will come in two hours.” She smiled softly and backed out of the room slowly, to not startle the young man with fast movements. 

Dean lifted the covers off the dishes and found a watery soup under the first and a very bland looking ham and cheese sandwich under the second. He snorted. 

“You’ll be putting on weight and I’ll be losing it,” he told his brother. “Like that conservation of mass and energy stuff you used to try to explain to me.” He did his best to not flinch when he felt Sam’s shift, but sneaked a look at the shadowed features to find amused eyes on him and that fond smile back in action. “Contrary to popular belief, I listen.” The smile tightened, threatening to break into sound, but Sam held back.

“This is your decision if you want it. Should I feed your this horribly healthy and nutritious soup or do you want to try to feed yourself?” Dean was greatly surprised to see the hint of a bitchface, the real testament that his brother was still in there. He held up his hand in surrender. “I had to ask, little brother.” 

Sam shifted on the bed, reaching with shaky hands to pull the over-the-bed table closer so he could eat. It stuttered instead of gliding smoothly and the soup sloshed, a little bit landing on the front of the hospital gown. Sam whined low in his throat, causing Dean to look around for something to clean him up. Not noticing any clean gowns or anything, he turned and shrugged at his brother. 

“I don’t think they left a change of clothes for you.” 

And apparently that was the wrong thing to say because down went the eyes and lax went the features and limbs. Dean took a deep breath, cursing himself in his head. He tried picking apart what he had said so he could figure out the trigger, but it’s wasn’t obvious. And Sam’s soup was getting cold. So, swallowing back his revulsion at what he knew he had to do, he used his alpha voice, gently though, and gave Sam a command.

“Eat up, Sam. You can stop when you’re full.” Sam didn’t flinch. He just raised his free hand to grip the spoon and leaned forward as he made the repeated motion of dipping the spoon into the bowl, bringing the liquid into his mouth, and then swallowing. That’s all it was. Motions. Nothing more. And it cut one more sliver from Dean’s heart.


	9. Nice to Meet You Again

Dean finished the bland sandwich while watching his brother with the soup. As soon as he put down the spoon and leaned back, head and eyes cast down, Dean pressed the nurse call button. He wasn’t expecting them to be so quick but jumped up and went to the door before she could get further inside the room. Her blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her makeup was minimal, but she was a natural beauty and just Dean’s type. Had it been another time, another person in that bed, he’d have gone into flirting mode to get into her space more intimately, but as it was, it was the wrong time and it was Sam in that bed.

“Um, can we get some fresh clothes and some rags to clean him up or something? He spilled a little soup and I think it’s really bothering him.” The nurse leaned around him to glance at the bed before smiling, nodding, and leaving the room, a backward glance over her shoulder at the handsome man who was caring for the patient. 

He waited by the door, keeping an eye on Sam while alert for the nurse to return. Which she did shortly, arms loaded with a few clean gowns, some soft washrags, towels, and a basin with a bar of omega recommended soap. As he took the stack from her, she touched his forearm gently and gave him a beaming smile before blushing as she left. He barely got out a ‘thank you’ and the door was softly snicking closed.

“Okay, little brother,” Dean sighed, walking towards the little side table with his load. “You want to wash a little before we get you in a clean gown?” Sam didn’t respond so Dean stepped over to the bed and took his hand again, gently rubbing over the back of it with his thumb. “Sam…Sammy, it’s just us again. Let’s get you into a clean gown.” He reached to pull Sam forward so he could untie the top of the gown, but stopped when Sam whimpered softly. 

“Sam?” The whimpering stopped and Dean pulled his hands back, not letting his mind go anywhere near why his little brother would be terrified of someone removing his clothing. He knew intellectually but thinking about it and reacting to his actual feelings about it would not be helpful. 

Sighing, he pushed the rolling table away from the bed and climbed up beside the distraught man again. He concentrated on only soothing thoughts, bringing his scent back to a calm center and smiled to himself when he felt his brother’s head lean onto his shoulder slowly. 

“’M sorry.”

Dean slowly wrapped his arm around the younger man and shushed him like he had done so many years ago.

“’s okay,” he replied softly. “We’re doing this at your pace, little brother. I’m taking my cues from you.” With the soft sigh and lessening of tension felt from Sam, Dean felt tears prickle at the back of his eyes, but didn’t let them get any further. “You want to stay in the dirty gown, it’s cool. At least the soup’s really bland, so it won’t make you stink.” He chuckled when he felt and heard the other huff in indignation.

He raised his head to look into the eyes he’d missed for so long. Those trusting, loving eyes that brightened a bit when Dean smiled. He sat up and pushed at the rolling cart again to get it further out of the way, gasping when it stuttered again and the bowl tipped over the edge, directly onto his jacket in the chair. Now Sam did giggle, raising his hands to cover his mouth, eyes going wide but he didn’t regress when he saw Dean smiling wider.

“Yeah, figures you’d laugh at my clothes getting the same treatment.” The hidden giggles became a snort of laughter, still very quiet and subdued. “At least it’s just the jacket.” He eased himself off of the bed to clean up the mess, checking on his phone for damage, although it had only been a small amount of soup, not enough to soak anything really. 

He noticed the message he had ignored last night and opened it up. It was from the Assistant Director.

‘Due to the current situation with the freed male omega slave, identified as Samuel Winchester, it has been decided your services are needed indefinitely as protection detail for the young Mr. Winchester. You are required to check in 3x a week but your status will be marked as excused from all other duties until such time as deemed absolutely necessary by myself or authorities above my ranking. Your partner, Gabriel Shurley, and the other Choir Boys, will meet with you there at the hospital tomorrow evening, at 7pm, for full team update. Reply is not required but requested.’

Dean smirked at the formal language and shook his head, but he was grateful for the assignment. He knew it wasn’t something any of them had planned on, as Sam was definitely something out of left field. He knew Gabe would understand but wasn’t sure how to explain this to the rest of the team, not sure if he even could. 

“Dean?” the soft voice came from behind him. He turned and held up the phone. 

“Looks like the phone is fine. And I’ve been assigned as your bodyguard for the foreseeable future.” Sam’s face creased in confusion. “Guess we need to talk a little. How about I tell you what I’ve been up to while we get you cleaned up?” The nod was hesitant, but the look of gratitude wasn’t.

Dean sent a quick reply before pocketing the phone in his pants.

‘Message received. Meeting will have to be via phone as Mr. Winchester is not ready to have visitors at once, the room is not secure, and I cannot leave my duty station.’

He rubbed his hands together and again reached for the ties at the top of Sam’s gown at the back of his neck. Sam barely flinched this time.

“Not sure what you know or you don’t,” he started as he used one hand to ease the taller man up to pull the soiled gown off. “I was gone on that hunting trip with Caleb when all this happened, I guess. When I got back, dad told me you’d presented as an omega and then killed yourself.” ‘To spare the world another whore omega’ is what John had said, but Dean was sure that wasn’t something Sam ever needed to hear. Or maybe he already knew John’s thoughts on that. He barely suppressed a shudder thinking about his brother being trapped for so long with that bigoted, insane asshole, especially since he’d always insisted that Sam was a bastard child of Lucifer Morningstar’s, even though he looked just like John. 

Sam was watching Dean passively, listening raptly, and breathing shallowly to avoid making noise. Dean peeled the sheets back, tossing the gown into a corner before grabbing the clean one he’d pulled close to shake it out. He directed the long arms into the sleeves and draped the front over the near nakedness, a thin pair of boxers still preserving Sam’s dignity. 

“I couldn’t stay there anymore.” He reached around to tie the gown at his neck loosely, knowing slaves sometimes were forced to wear collars and not wanting to trigger anything along those lines. “Knowing that Mom had died, that dad was insane and apparently evil, and that you were gone, I had nothing left there.” He eased Sam back and pulled the sheet back over his brother, popping the lid on one of the water bottles before handing it over to him. “I packed my shit in Baby and left.” He shrugged, watching the bottle shake, gently reaching up to touch the hand holding it to steady it. “Joined the FBI.” The bottle came away from his face quickly and he coughed in surprise. Dean laughed and took the bottle back, capping it. “Yeah, figured I’d better work on trying to do some good, rather than be sucked into dad’s house of horrors.”

He caught Sam’s tremor and immediately hopped back onto the bed to pull his brother against him, wanting to protect him, wrap him up and soothe away his past.

“If I’d have known, Sammy…,” he whispered. Sam turned a little in the embrace, tucking his head under Dean’s chin and gripping his shirt with his hand. The older man sniffled with a deep sigh. “I’d have taken you with me. You could have gone back to Stanford or wherever you wanted. I’d have never left you alone.”

“I know.” The reply was muffled into Dean’s chest and did little to ease the guilt in his heart, but Dean took it as it was given, the acknowledgement that Dean hadn’t left him to that horrible fate on purpose. 

“Well, I’ve got you back now and I ain’t leaving you again. But I gotta tell you a few things, some things you gotta know before my team gets here.” Sam’s head shifted, as if he was looking up, looking through Dean’s jaw into his eyes. Dean leaned back to meet those ever-changing eyes. Right now, they were nearly the same green as his own, with a little golden brown in the middle, and a minor ring of dark grey on the outside. He would never get tired of seeing those colors shifting along the spectrum, as his mood or the lighting in the area changed. Oh, how he had missed that.

Sam leaned back as well, meeting those bright green eyes of his brother’s. 

“I changed my name to Dean Smith when I joined the Bureau,” He told his little brother. Sam glanced away then back, as if processing and accepting it. “And no one except my boss and his superiors know that John Winchester is my father. Well, Gabe, my partner, knows. He’s a munchkin beta with a serious sweet tooth for candy, but he’s great at his job and loyal as all hell.” Sam blinked, waiting for more information. “So when my team arrives later tonight, I’m going to join them by phone so they don’t come in here and I don’t have to go out there and leave you. However, if you say anything, they’ll be able to hear you, and I need to be able to fill them in that we’re brothers, that we’re the sons of the infamous John Winchester, on my own terms and in my own way.”

He eyed Sam, who bit his lower lip and frowned, but eventually nodded, tucking his head back under his brother’s chin. Dean sighed again, leaning back into the embrace.

“One more thing. I helped lead a triple raid yesterday. We took out Crowley’s Legion bunker, Lucifer’s Fallen Angels facilities, and John Winchester’s compound.” Sam trembled a little and Dean strengthened the embrace a bit. “I was told you were found at Crowley’s. Can you tell me how you ended up there? Something about a woman named Ruby?” Dean leaned back again, but Sam leaned in further, not looking up. 

“Not ready yet?” He shook his head and swallowed hard. Dean rubbed one hand up and down Sam’s shoulder and arm in a comforting gesture. “That’s okay. We got enough information to put them all away for a long time, except Crowley. Bastard took poison to avoid being arrested.” Sam nodded and sniffled against Dean’s chest. “And I’m now attached at your hip for the foreseeable future, little brother. You’ll have to pry me away like a limpet when you’re finally ready to kick my ass away from you.” Sam tensed, the arm going around Dean’s waist and gripping him frantically.

“Whoa, whoa, I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me too. I promise. Even if I have to resign from the FBI and take us back to living out of the Impala and hotels.” Dean snorted and snuggled his brother closer to him, hoping the sentiment was being received as intended. He felt the prickle behind his eyes again when Sam sighed against him and the tension again eased out of him.


	10. Let's Meet The Team

True to their word, the staff delivered another bowl of watery soup a short time later and picked up the empty dishes and Dean’s meal request for lunch. As much as he hated waking his brother, a former slave, he had to remind himself, he needed to eat and he bet it wouldn’t taste much different cold than hot, but with the malnutrition and dehydration, Sam was running cooler than was normal so hot, or even warm soup, was a good step in the right direction. They sat up and Sam allowed his brother to feed him this time, not wanting to repeat the spilled soup from earlier, even if it had been the rolling table, not his own shaking hands.

After the soup, Sam had fallen asleep again, the exhaustion dragging him back down. Dean put the dish into the hallway for collection before returning to the chair by the bed and pulling out his phone. He texted Gabe.

‘Got time to talk?’ He hadn’t even laid the phone back into his lap before the reply was dinging in his hand.

‘Yep, call when ready, Pie-man.’ Dean snorted and hit the speed dial.

“Yell-o, Dean-o!” the way too chipper voice of his partner came into his ear. Dean pulled the phone away with a grimace then returned it to closer to his face.

“Hey Gabe, keep it down. You’ll wake the kid.” He avoided saying Sam’s name for several reasons. If anyone was hacked into his phone, he’d be able to track it and know where the omega was being kept. And if he said the name out loud, it might wake Sam up and he needed his sleep. 

“Sssssss,” Gabe hissed in apology. “Sorry, Dean-o. How’s he doing?” Dean snorted softly.

“He’s better than I expected. Hell, I don’t know what I expected. Lots of physical damage, broken bones, bruises, tissue damage. Mental damage? I can’t speculate, but I’d say he won’t be testifying any time soon and so far, I’m the only one he speaks to.”

“Ugh, sucks Oompa Loompa balls.” There was a pause, then a deep breath. “I’m happy you got him back, Dean. Really. Now, really, how are YOU doing?” Dean ran his hand over his face before replying.

“I’m…okay. Happy. Ecstatic. Furious. Elated. Confused. No, not confused. I know J-, that man, and this? This seems obvious in hindsight. So I guess guilty too. That I didn’t insist on seeing the body back then. That I just took his word.”

“Uh uh, Dean-o,” Gabe chided him. “I haven’t known you more than a year, but I know this is NOT on you. At all. All blame goes that bastard. He just took advantage of both of you and that boy just got it worse is all. Not that I’m downplaying anything. Just that he’s been found and you’re there being all alpha bodyguard so he’s safe and you’re good for him and will be good to him.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I hear ya. So you on the road?”

“Winding my way towards your sultry voice as we speak, Kemosabe. Uh, I gotta ask, and don’t take this the wrong way-.” Dean rolled his eyes after the voice trailed off but didn’t continue and left silence between them for a minute or two.

“My silence is your cue, smart ass.”

“Is he cute? Or devilishly handsome like you?” Dean furrowed his brow in confusion before realizing Gabriel, his blatantly bisexual partner, was asking if Sam, his brother, the traumatized slave omega, was cute or handsome. If it had been anyone else, he’d have been furious. As it was Gabe, he rubbed his hand over his face again and leaned forward, closing his eyes.

“I’m hanging up now.” And he hung up on the start of Gabriel’s whine. He sat back and stared at the ceiling a bit, then pulled up the number for Benny and texted him.

‘You guys still in the hospital or just nearby and waiting for the meeting tonight?’ The reply took a few minutes.

‘At a diner nearby, getting lunch, brother. Want us to swing by? Or come early?’ Dean hesitated before responding. He’d started it, he had to finish it.

‘Nah, but I need to talk to you about something personal. Can you get some privacy in a bit and let me know when I can call you? Needs to be after 2pm though so my charge has had lunch and is back asleep.’ He could picture the suspicion and confusion on Benny’s face. A little time passed.

‘Yeah, I’ll ping ya around 3-ish. We should be able to talk.’ And immediately after that, ‘Not that you want to tell me, but it’s something to do with that omega you’re guarding, ain’t it?’ Dean couldn’t help the groan that escaped. Sam twitched in his sleep but didn’t wake up.

‘You always were pretty perceptive.’ There was no reply to that one, not that he expected one. But Gabe already knew and Benny and he were close friends so he had to at least fill him in before the others. The others, well, they were teammates, but they weren’t Benny or Gabe. 

The next hour or so was spent with him reading over work and personal emails and responding to anything important or redirecting ones he was no longer involved in, like FBI cases that could be handed over to other agents. When the nurse came by with lunch, she ventured further inside to check the monitors and hanging bags, using gestures to let Dean know she would be back to replace them around 2pm, so as not to startle Sam, who was now sitting up and staring at his lap, slave mindset in place.

Once she had slipped out again, Dean set up the rolling table again, this time keeping his hand steady to keep the wheels from stuttering as he slid it in front of the malnourished form in the bed. 

“I gotta get Gabe to bring in my tool pouch and a bag of clothes from my car when he gets here.” He shook his head to no one in particular.

“Your partner?” Sam asked quietly. Dean smiled at him as he took his own covered dish of a bland beef stew with mashed potatoes and sat it on the table next to the soup. He uncovered both dishes with a flourish and a cocky grin. Sam smiled tentatively. 

“Yeah, the one with the serious sweet tooth. I mean, seriously, the man is never without candy of some kind. Lollipops, rock candy, even those old candy necklaces and bracelets kids eat off of string?” Sam nodded and tilted his head, opening his mouth as Dean offered him each spoon of soup. They alternated bites. Dean would feed a spoon of soup to Sam, then take a bit of his own meal, then back to Sam, and on and on.

“The man never gets any cavities either. And how he doesn’t have diabetes, I have no clue.” Dean continued to ramble as he fed them both. “He’s short, man. Like munchkin. You and me are tall, but he’s one of those Lollipop Guild guys from Wizard of Oz. Yeah, just like that.” He laughed almost to himself, but not missing how Sam smiled, hearing him laugh.

“Will you tell me about your team? Are they good people?” Dean paused, the fork halfway to his own mouth. He put the fork down and he felt himself lighten and tighten at the same time. He was happy Sam was curious. A lot of severely abused trained slaves wouldn’t dare to ask questions for a long time after they were rescued. But at the same time, he was reminded that he was about to spill his big secret to his team and he had no clue how any of them would take it. Another reason to do the meeting by phone, rather than having them inside the room with Sam.

When he began the descriptions, he knew Sam wanted to know about them as people, like could he trust them, but he also wanted physical details so he could recognize them if anything happened to Dean. Having been raised alongside Dean as part of their father’s military mentality, they both had a need for details for faster judgement calls.

“Yeah, Sammy. They are.” He left his food for now and just concentrated on feeding his brother. “Well, I told you about Gabe. He’s short, got light brown, blondish hair. Light brown eyes. He calls them ‘sunlight through a glass of whiskey’ but he’s all flowery like that. A bit vain too, but he’s funny and a nice guy. He’s a beta and bisexual, although some days he’s totally flaming homosexual.” Sam snorted a little, but he also blushed. Dean tried not to pay attention to that.

“Benny, he’s a beta too, but he’s married to an omega. Her name is Anna and she’s one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. He’s more serious but a really nice guy and my closest friend besides Gabe. He’s built like a linebacker, gruff as Bobby, and has a scruffy beard the Bureau has reprimanded him many times for not shaving to their standards. But he’s one of the best so they kinda overlook it mostly.”

“I think I saw him and another guy after I got here.” Dean nodded.

“Him and Cole led the field team and local guys that took down Crowley’s Legion bunker. That’s where they found you, down in one of the cells in the basement.” Sam withdrew with a nod, all emotion leaving him blankly staring at his lap.

“Hey, sorry about that. Didn’t mean to bring up bad memories, Sammy.” He reached out and cup Sam’s cheek. Sam closed his eyes and leaned into his hand, then sighed and shivered, finally looking back up as he pulled back up from the darkness in his head. “We’re gonna make new, brighter memories, yeah?” Sam’s mouth slid up slowly, but stopped before becoming a real smile. Dean went back to spooning the soup into him.

“So Cole. He’s ex marine. Joined the FBI after his last tour. He’s short but not as short as Gabe. Cole’s way more serious than Gabe or Benny. I know Cole’s married and got a kid but I ain’t met them. He’s got dark, short hair. And he comes across as this really intense asshole (hell, him and Zeke both do), but they actually have a good heart and a drive to stop the criminals.

“Zeke is a little taller than me. Not sure how tall you are now, but you look like you’re taller than me. Are you taller than me?” Dean leaned back, dropping the spoon into the empty bowl and pulling the rolling table away. Sam blinked up at him. Dean came around and hopped up on the bed next to the lanky man and scooted up until their heads were at the same height. Sam immediately tried to scrunch down to appear smaller.

“Nah, man,” Dean said with mock despair. “Don’t try to spare my feelings and letting me think I’m still the bigger brother. Straighten out.” Sam did, with reluctance, still trembling a little. But Dean noticed. He leaned into Sam’s side and then looked down to where their feet were at the bottom of the bed. He glanced up to make sure their heads were even before looking down at their feet again.

“Damn, you win.” He chuckled and bumped his shoulder playfully against Sam’s. Sam smiled weakly, leaning closer to Dean too. “You got a good three inches on me. Are you done growing yet or am I going to have to get all my doorways raised in my apartment?” It was good natured ribbing from Dean but Sam shrank into himself, falling still and emotionless. Dean flopped his head back on the mattress, realizing either what he’d said or how he’d said it had triggered something. Working with rescued slaves tended to be a minefield. And while Sam was responding so much better to Dean than many of the slaves he’d worked with, there was still a lot to discover about how to best help him.

“Sammy, I’m sorry. Not sure what I said, but you can keep growing all you want. Can’t wait to see Gabe’s eyes pop out of his head the first time you stand up in front of him. He’s always squawking about how I’m too tall for him to be partnered with. Not sure what he’s going to say about my brother being even taller. Personally, I’m going laugh in his face. You want a good laugh, Sammy? Tell him you don’t like sweets. Watch his face then.” 

Dean tried to follow his training and continue on as if it was all normal and natural and there was nothing wrong, all while redirecting the conversation away from the trigger. But Sammy was now flinching every few seconds, like whatever memory that had triggered was replaying in his mind, and holy hell did Dean want to get his hands on their father for whatever this was this time.

It was not long after that Sam drifted off into another restless sleep. Dean finished his meal and put their tray outside the door. Having heard a few dings while he had been talking earlier, he checked his messages. Gabe had texted to say he was getting close, only a few hours away now, and asking if Dean needed anything. And his supervisor asking for a update on Sam’s condition, as well as alerting him to the case worker being sent over some time today to help file any and all paperwork related to getting Sam signed over to Dean’s care permanently and making sure Dean had any and all resources he needed for that care.

He responded with a clinical recitation of Sam’s physical condition and continued weakness. He included the mental breakthroughs with Sam and some of the setbacks, but conveyed his adamance that he’d do whatever Sam needed to help him get better. He did request the name of the case worker so he’d know to avoid anyone pretending to be one for the sake of revenge, claiming, or the press.

Next, he prompted Gabe to bring him his go bag from the trunk of his car in the hospital parking lot, as well as his small tool pouch. Lastly, he told Gabe to text before he came to the door because of his charge’s skittishness. He got a near instant response of the thumbs up emoji. He settled back and closed his eyes for a short rest because the rest of the day promised to be very busy.


	11. Bring In the Circus

As expected, the next bowl of soup arrived at 2pm, along with an unassuming, quiet man with brilliant blue eyes and dark, windswept hair. The nurse handed off the soup silently and hugged the blue-eyed man briefly before she left. Dean figured she probably had worked with him before as he assumed this must be Castiel Novak, the case worker. When the shorter man stopped at the door and waited for Dean to approach him, the alpha in him made him step between the beta and his nervous brother in the bed, who was just waking up and was silently regarding his own lap once he realized someone else was in the room.

“Castiel Novak, with the Bureau’s Department of Victim Management, Mid-West division.” He held out his hand and smiled openly. Dean took the hand with a slight nod and noted the rumpled tan trenchcoat and the disheveled off-the-rack suit and tie beneath it.

“Dean Smith, Special Agent, Field, Organized Crime division.” They shook hands and the tension eased a little. Castiel leaned around Dean just to glimpse the young man on the bed but didn’t do anything further, which Dean appreciated. And he figured he must be a seasoned pro at this with the low, calming tone of his gravelly voice, and how he didn’t try to force any interactions.

“Mr. Smith-,” the older man began. Dean held up a hand to stop him and then crossed his arms over his chest.

“Just Dean. Sam responds better to my first name.” Castiel’s face relaxed more, realizing there was already a connection made.

“My friends call me Cas, but you can call me Cas or Castiel. I’m pleased to know he’s responding to you. From the update from the staff and Dr. Cason, you’re related to the…young man?” He asked quietly, watching Dean’s face for clues. Dean schooled his features but couldn’t stop the glance back over his shoulder at Sam. 

“Yeah, but I can’t divulge the relationship at this time. We left on good terms last time we saw each other before he disappeared. When I was told who I was coming to identify and work with, I was shocked, but I think we’re making progress already.”

Cas nodded with a sigh.

“Yes, having loving family around at times like these are the best option. Especially patient ones. And I understand you’re trained to work with rescued slaves?” Dean ran a hand through his own messy hair and leaned against the wall, still facing Cas, but giving the other man a better, less defensive view of Sam on the bed. 

“That’s right. Worked with rescued slaves groups to calm them and acclimate them to non-aggressive alphas as most of them had been sorely abused by the sadly, true ‘knotheads’ of my gender. Don’t get me wrong, there are some asshole betas out there too, like Crowley, but I’ve taken it on myself to try to reverse some of the damage the victims have endured. No one should be treated like that.”

“I agree, there are some true abominations in this world, like Mr. Winchester’s father.” Dean stood straight again, having seen Sam flinch in the corner of his eye. Cas tensed.

“His name is Sam. Don’t call him Mr. Winchester. And his father is a soon to be dead man. I’m going to work with Sam to erase the name of Winchester from existence except as a footnote in the archives of the criminally insane.”

“You plan to have Mr…uh, Sam’s last name changed?” Cas’ brow furrowed. He reached into his trenchcoat and pulled out a digital tablet and fired it up. His head was bowed as he tapped through a few documents.

“As soon as possible. I’m going to register as his familial alpha for his protection and have his last name changed to mine.” Dean’s chin thrusted up in challenge. Cas muttered to himself and scrolled further through whatever he was reviewing.

“Well, as long as you can prove the familial claim and no charges are brought against him from the evidence gathered, I don’t see it as an issue.” Cas finally sighed and began typing in a field with whatever notes he was making. Dean huffed sharply.

“Charges against him?” Cas looked up and then over at Sam, dropping the arm with the tablet to his side to focus on Dean.

“As much as I’m loathe to admit it myself, if you are truly related to Sam, then you understand the situation with his father and the fact that anyone related by blood, as well as anyone found during the raid, is being investigated. While I personally believe that the evidence that has been forwarded to me will prove that he is only an innocent victim, the final say will not be mine.” Dean huffed again but held back the growl he felt building. Cas pulled the tablet back up to continue the report and whatever else he was doing.

“Now, I’ll have to put in the request for the DNA testing for the familial claim and we’ll have to wait for final verdict from the head office, but I did speak to the nurses and Dr Cason before I came in and their reports on you and your interaction with Sam lead me to believe you only have the best intentions for him. It’s my job to make sure the victim is taken care of physically and mentally and follow up as he progresses. As you’ve been officially assigned as his protection detail, I’ll be in constant contact with you for updates.” Dean nodded once he glanced up.

“Will you be staying in the area or will you be taking him back to your home in Wyoming once all the necessary measures have been taken?”

“He’ll be coming home with me. And how long will it take for all these ‘necessary measures’? The doc only said they needed to feed him up a little so no definite timeline there.” He glanced over at Sam again, noticing he hadn’t moved and wanting to get Cas out before the soup got cold. Castiel hummed to himself a moment, tilting his head like a bird, as he thought.

“For my part, a week, maybe less. For Dr Cason’s, probably around the same, but again, that’s not my call.” Dean nodded before taking a deep breath.

“Okay then. I hate to rush you out, but is that all for now? I’ve got to get him to eat before it goes cold and before he falls asleep again. I’m sure you have my cell number from the office so you can let me know if you need more info or need to meet again.” He gently stepped closer, turning Cas towards the door. For his part, Cas opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again and stepped out, turning to impart some final information.

“Dean, every instinct I have is telling me that you two will do well together. But please call me if you need advice, help, or referrals on anything, like rehab.” He pulled a card from inside his trenchcoat and passed it to the taller man. Dean took it without looking at it, then gestured with it as a ‘you got it’ before closing the door on the case worker.

Dean turned away from the door to finally go back to Sam’s bedside and feed him, but the door opened before he could go more than a few steps. He whirled around.

“Damnit, Cas!” He said. Then he noticed it was Gabe slipping in. Cas was behind him in the hallway but turned away as though leaving.

“Hey Deano!” Gabe smiled as he closed the door behind him. Dean groaned. Gabe cringed. “Bad timing?” He held up his hands placatingly, Dean’s duffel in one hand, his small backpack/tool kit in the other. Dean sighs, shaking his head.

“Yeah, kinda. Can you wait outside for like 30 minutes? Gotta get Sam fed and the case worker already delayed that.” Gabe held his arms out to offer the bags to his partner, who reached to take them. As they left his hands, he leaned around Dean to see the man in the bed. Dean glared when he saw Gabe’s eyebrows go up as his eyes sparkled. They freaking sparkled. “Gabe…” He said with a little threat in his voice. Gabe jerked back, hands up in surrender.

“I’m going. See? Like cotton candy in saliva, I’m gone.” He slipped out the door quickly, leaving Dean holding the bags and really, really wishing he could just lock the damn door for a bit. When he heard a snicker, he turned around. Sam was smiling broadly, eying the door behind Dean.

“Told you he’s all about candy.” He sat the bags in the chair as he slid the table back in front of Sam with a firm hand to minimize the wobble.

“I think it’s sweet,” Sam said softly. Dean harrumphed.

“Oh, God, not you too. The puns are going to kill me.” Dean smiled and shook his head, seeing that something in Gabe, even in that minimal amount of time and no interaction, had sparked Sam’s funny bone. He lifted the spoon to feed his brother and noticed that Sam was completely alert. “So puns are what make you totally you again, huh?” Sam jolted a little, then smiled. “Figures. Now I got two of you punsters.”

The rest of the soup went quickly with Sam asking for more, but accepting that it would be dinnertime before he’d be given more. Dean promised to ask for something more hearty starting tomorrow if Dr. Cason agreed, but promised nothing. Sam had hummed gently, then drifted off to sleep again. The older brother put the dish outside the door again as his phone dinged. It was Benny.

Dean girded himself mentally as he hit the speed dial for Benny after texting Gabe to give him another 10 minutes. The phone only rang once and the beta was answering.

“Hey Dean. How’s the kid?” Dean sighed as he moved to the furthest corner of the room.

“Physically, got a long way to go. Mentally, he’s a lot better than I thought he’d be.” It was quiet on the other end for a moment.

“And that’s got something to do with you, don’t it, brother?” Benny asked in his slow cajun accent.

“Yeah,” Dean breathed out. “Benny, you have to know that what I’m going to say next was never meant maliciously. And I’ll understand if you want me to stay away from you and Anna for all eternity, but I honestly call you both friends and I got few enough of those that I’m loathe to lose any of them.” There was a faint grunt on the other end. “You know the kid is Sam Winchester, youngest son of John Winchester.” There was another grunt. “I’m Sam’s brother. My real last name is Winchester.” He paused to let it sink in.

“You shining me, Dean?” Benny finally said. Dean could hear the incredulousness in his voice.

“No, Benny. After Sam supposedly killed himself six years ago, I left the compound and have never been back. John disowned me but I could care less. I got my name changed and joined the bureau as soon as I could after that. I didn’t hide anything from the higher ups and had to prove myself a lot before they trusted me. But I ain’t lying to you Benny, when I say that you’re my friend. Anna’s my friend. I have nothing to do with John and the shit he’s done. All I can ask is that you don’t say anything to anyone else. It’s going to come out at the meeting later tonight but I knew I had to tell you before the others.” The other end was deathly quiet. “I mean, Gabe knows, but he’s kinda the only one until now.”

Still no sound for a few minutes. Dean was sure the man had hung up and pulled the phone away from his head to look to see if it disconnected, but brought it back to his ear once he saw it was still an active call.

“Benny?” Finally, there was a deep sigh.

“Dean, you goin’ to have to give me a little time. I need to think on things.” Dean closed his eyes and laid his head against the wall.

“Yeah, take all the time you need, man. Just…just know that I hated keeping this from you but I really didn’t want to be associated with that name anymore so…”

“Yeah, well, I’m goin’ to hang up and go get a bottle of whiskey and have a deep think. You, uh, keep that boy safe, Dean.” And then the call disconnected. 

“Will do, brother,” he said to empty air as he scrubbed down his face with his hand. It took a moment to pull himself together before he texted Gabe that it was okay to come in, but to dial it down by like 1000 or he’d be thrown out physically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was going to wait to finish it to post it all at once, but if I don't post it now, I'll end up re-editing it 20 times and never post it. More coming soon.
> 
> P.S. other storyline (Superheroes Meet Supernatural) stalled but it's also in the works for the next 'work' to be added. Demon Dean is in for a rude awakening.


	12. Gabe is a Goofball

This time, when Gabe showed up at the door, Sam was awake and aware. Dean had told him that Gabe was coming back, that he wanted them to meet because Gabe was the one person that knew who they were and he trusted implicitly. He wanted Sam to have someone to rely on ever anything happened to him. Sam was fidgeting right up until that light tapping on the door. Then he slid into his slave mindset, eyes and head down, hands lax, waiting.

Dean opened the door just enough for Gabe to slip in before closing it softly. Gabe was fidgety himself and Dean tilted his head, trying to figure out why his normally laid back partner would be so fidgety. Then it struck him, there was no candy in his mouth or hands. He’d probably been warned that any unauthorized food would be confiscated and could be detrimental to the patient’s wellbeing. And the fact that Dean would have his balls if he did anything to upset his omega brother probably had something to do with his compliance.

“Hey Gabe,” he said softly as he gave the one-armed macho hug to his partner, keeping his brother in his peripheral vision at all times. Gabe squeezed his waist back.

“Heya Dean-o. So this is the little brother, huh?” Gabe eased forward a step, Dean mirroring him, keeping himself on level but not between his partner and his brother, trying to show Sam that he trusted him, but was still there to protect him if needed. 

“Yeah, not so little, short stack. Sammy’s taller than I am.” Gabe stood up to his full height, top of his head still not passing Dean’s nose, and gasped.

“Gah! So your family still goes by the tall versus insanity scale? The shorter they are, the more insane. The taller they get, the nicer? That means Sam is a saint of epic proportions? And how did your family end up with all the good genes for such handsomeness? I swear, the universe is not fair.” Gabriel crossed his arms and huffed, stopping at the foot of Sam’s bed. Dean did not miss how Sam’s eyes flickered upwards to catch Gabe’s face before dropping to his lap again. He also did not miss the faint smile that threatened to break free.

“Yeah, Sammy was always the best of us. Was a tiny, whip-smart kid and then bam! His size grew to match his brain.” Dean grinned fondly at his little brother and dared a hand to lightly squeeze Sam’s closest hand. He felt Sam flinch and the smile was gone. His height was apparently a trigger. John had only topped out at 6’1”, same as Dean, but he’d always made sure all those under his command were shorter so he could look down on them. When Sam had surpassed him, it surely had been one of the points of punishment for the youngest son. 

“Listen, Sam,” Dean said turning to fully face his baby brother. “I’m guessing John punished you for being taller. I don’t know what he did, and I know it’s not something you’ll get over any time soon, but you being tall is wonderful, not something to be punished. John is going to be put to death. I’m your familial alpha and permanent protection detail. So just know that you being tall is never going to get me to punish you, okay?” Sam blinked, eyes flicking from Gabe to Dean, back to Gabe, then down to his lap.

“If you say so, m-Dean,” came the soft voice. Gabe gaped.

“Wow, tall, handsome, smart, and not going to just say ‘yes, master’ every time you say something? I think I’m in love.” Gabe pretended to swoon dramatically over the footboard. Dean started to reprimand him and make him leave again, but he heard a faint snort from Sam.

“Oh, God, if you two become friends, I’ll never survive the hijinks.” Dean dramatically rolled his eyes, watching surreptitiously for Sam’s reaction and smiling to himself when Sam raised his head a little, and smiled openly.

“Um, our total awesomeness will be your blessing, not your curse, Dean-o,” Gabe smirked, putting his hands on his hips. “So, Samsquatch, you like hijinks too? Well, let me tell you about the time I replaced Dean’s regular coffee in his apartment with one of my favorites.” Dean put up a hand.

“Sam does not need to hear about that,” he sputtered. Sam’s hand came up and pulled his down onto the railing. Dean looked over at him.

“Please?” Sam asked softly, eyes lit up, open smile waiting. That damned puppy dog face he’d known how to do since he was a toddler. Dean huffed and rolled his eyes before falling back into the chair.

“Fine, continue. Embarrass me all you want.” Gabe snickered and rubbed his hands together. 

“So Dean prefers those ‘manly’ dark roasts, typically made so strong they could almost throw themselves down his throat,” Gabe continued with sparkles in his eyes. Sam was watching him raptly, which warmed Dean’s spirit to no end. “You know the ones I mean, yeah?” Sam nodded automatically. “Well, I came over one weekend to help him remodel his bedroom, totally ignoring my ideas for mirrors on the ceiling, pink champagne on ice, the kind of thing that spices up the bedroom…” Sam snorted and Dean groaned. “…and I had brought my own favorite blend, this really delicious…”

“Sickeningly sweet, you mean,” Dean interrupted. Sam shushed him. Dean blinked. Sam _shushed_ him. _SAM shushed him_. If he didn’t know better, this Sam was the same Sam he’d left at home all those years ago, before the total chaos of John’s lies destroyed their family. 

“To your unrefined palette, sure, but to the rest of us who aren’t heathens, it was a delicious caramel macchiato blend, with my own addition of a hint of mint. Now, mind you, usually caramel and mint does not go well together, but in this instance, it was heaven! So I replaced his coffee with mine and waited for him to make a pot and take a sip. I made sure to get up early so I could make a pot of mine before he got up so he’d never smell the deception.”

“Freaking caramel mint reeked up my whole apartment that weekend.” Dean was grumbled half-heartedly, still watching Sam’s reactions. Gabe laughed.

“It was funny enough watching him grouse about the smell, but when he poured that first cup and took a deep swig, expecting that extra strong, bitter crap he usually drinks, I nearly lost my shit. I mean his face was funny enough, but the sputtering and spitting was high-larious!” Gabe slapped his own knee and laughed out loud. Sam laughed with him, just not as loudly or as freely, but it was good to hear. 

“Wasn’t so funny when I made you clean my kitchen from all the coffee splatters, was it?” Dean pouted. Gabe waved at him dismissively.

“Was totally worth it. Would do it again. You’d help me distract the squirrel, wouldn’t you Moose?” Dean rolled his eyes, but Sam furrowed his brow, looking over at Dean.

“Squirrel, Moose?” His soft voice asked. Gabe snorted.

“Rocky and Bullwinkle?” Gabe waved a hand towards Sam. “You’re tall as a moose.” And then towards Dean. “So he’s the squirrel. And from the stories Dean-o’s been telling me, you two were always really close, so Moose and Squirrel. Ooooh, does this mean I can be Natasha?” Dean and Sam both snorted.

“Don’t you mean Boris, Gabe?” Dean asked covering his mouth with his hand. Gabriel shook his head.

“Nah, Boris was the dumb one. Besides, Natasha was a hot drag queen. Don’t tell me you didn’t realize those were falsies? And the adam’s apple? Wow!” Gabe looked perplexed at the brothers as they laughed and shared a look like they had no clue what he was talking about. “I’m going to seriously have to have a classic cartoon marathon with you guys once we get cleared to take Sam back with us. Between Rocky and Bullwinkle, Mr. Peabody and the Wayback machine, and Fractured Fairytales, this was honestly the first totally gay cartoon and it seems almost no one noticed. Way to fly under the radar, huh?” 

Sam laughed a little more, feeling more at ease around Gabriel than he had any other person that he’d met in the past 6 years, with the exception of Dean. With Dean as his guardian, keeping him safe, it also looked like Gabriel would be his friend and that was good. He was free from the nightmare that was his father and Crowley and his brother was a hero, who had helped bring down the insanity that had locked them all down for years. It would take time, but he would heal and one day, Sam would be able to remember this time without cringing in fear or disgust. That certainly wasn’t today. But one day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm horrible at endings. I'm no Chuck. Or maybe I am. He could never find the right ending either. He tried to force it and it always comes out wrong for himself. And many times for others.
> 
> So this is where I leave it, on a happier note. I know there's so much more that could be explained, like the inheritance from Lucifer, but I like the implied thought that they would be financially set. And like Dean's teams responses once they know. I totally left Jody hanging in there, but if I keep editing, it'll just screw things up. Surely Benny'll totally forgive him. And Cas? I'm sure Cas will lots of follow ups at the apartment. Cas and Dean are destined in every universe, right?
> 
> And having the attention span of a gnat, my mind is already on another story that involves vampire Dean and teen Sam and not in a Wincest kind of way.


End file.
